


Discontinuity

by Slybrarian



Series: Discontinuity [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-01
Updated: 2009-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 13:11:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slybrarian/pseuds/Slybrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Sheppard and Cameron Mitchell were never more than friends - but in 1938, eleven years after the last time he saw John in person, Cam still wished that hadn't been the case. One little nudge couldn't possibly hurt anything....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an answer to the SG-Flyboys challenge, with the prompts "dress uniforms" and "Cam in Atlantis". It's already spawned gigantic plot bunny and several sequels are in progress. Some, more accurately, have already arrived; see the end of the last post. Cam's extended family was borrowed in part from synecdochic and ivorygate's Clan Mitchell .

Cameron really hoped the giant hole in the side of the ship wouldn't fuck up the timeline again.

He and Henry had cleaned up what they could, of course, dumping the bodies and most of the alien technology into the water after Cameron had personally made sure each and every _prim'ta_ was dead and where it should be. The rest of the crew were keeping their heads low and had been fed a cover story about German saboteurs and secret missions, which would hopefully keep them from talking too much. The damned hole was still there, though, and there was nothing Cameron could do about it, any more than he could get the cargo ship he'd stolen to get to Earth back to its rightful owner. It was times like this that Cameron really wished Sam was still there to tell him just how likely it was that the universe was going to implode because of it all.

Then again, maybe it was better for his state of mind not to know.

There was nothing else for it either way, which left Cameron with one last thing to do before he disappeared himself.

"You even have any plans?" Henry asked. He stood a few feet away from Cameron, arms crossed and a worried expression on his face.

"As much as I ever have," Cameron replied as he finished fixing the dialing device to the gate. "'Course, most people wouldn't exactly call them plans, but it's something."

"You could come home with me, stay a while, take a rest before you decide what your next step should be. You know you're welcome." Henry cracked a small smile. "My wife bakes a mean pie, if that'll persuade you."

"That she does, sir," Cameron said with a chuckle. He looked at Henry for a long moment and saw in his weather-worn and earnest face the temptations of _home_ and _ family_. He had been there once before, while he was worming his way onto the crew of the _Achilles_, and it had been almost overwhelming then. Cameron knew that if he went back again he might never leave. For a second he considered giving in and saying yes, but he knew it was too much to risk. He had already allowed himself a small indulgence as a reward to himself and to the him-that-would-be; he was happy with that.

"The answer's still the same, though," Cameron said. "I can't stay here any longer. Wish I could, but you can't always get what you want."

"If you say so," Henry said with a sigh.

"I do. There is something you can do for me, though. There's a few things in my sea bag, some letters and a journal. I'd like you to keep them safe and put 'em in the dead letter drop for Everett's oldest boy. I've left some instructions on when to deliver them. I'm sure you can take care of it." Cameron grinned. "If not, your wife sure as hell can."

"Everett's a bit young to be having a son, you know," Henry pointed out.

"Give him time," Cam said, his grin getting wider. His Daddy was still just a baby; Momma wasn't even born yet. "There's money, too. It's not much, but it's yours. If you won't use it yourself, get the kids something nice for Christmas for me."

"I'll take care of it all."

"Thanks."

"You mind if I ask you a question?"

Cameron shrugged and nodded. "Shoot," he said as he bent down to pick up the staff weapon laying on the deck.

"How do you know so much about my family?"

"I can't answer that, sir, although you might be able to guess," Cameron said. "I can tell you this, though: there's gonna be some rough times ahead, but the family's gonna pull through, and you're never gonna have reason not to be proud of them."

Henry didn't look entirely happy with his reply, but nodded none the less. "That's more than most men can say, I suppose."

"That it is." Cameron touched a few keys on the dialing device and the gate began to spin up. "You may want to stand back, sir."

The gate's chevrons locked into position and the familiar blue vortex shot out before setting down. Cameron couldn't help but run his hand through the rippling surface of the event horizon before detaching the dialer and stepping up onto a crate he had positioned in front of the gate. He looked back at Henry.

"Thanks for everything, sir."

"You're welcome. Take care of yourself, son."

"You too, sir."

Cameron stepped through the wormhole and felt the achingly familiar instant of freezing cold. The beta site was exactly as it was supposed to be: nothing but the DHD and trees, with no sign a person had set foot in the area in years. If all else failed, he could live there for a while without worrying about the time line and be long gone by the time the first SG team arrived. He prayed it wouldn't come to that, but after this long he was used to being a bit lonely.

He walked over to the DHD and punched in the first of a handful of painstakingly-memorized addresses. The gate engaged and a minute later he was on a new planet once more. He found himself in clearing surrounded by forest not unlike the one he had just left. He glanced around then began carefully laying out anything that might be considered a weapon: the staff, two zats, a couple of knives and a hatchet liberated from the _Achilles_. Then he lay down next to them to wait.

"Listen, I don't know if you're even there," Cameron said after an hour or so of silence. "But I'm feeling a bit hungry, so I'm going to take a look around to see if there's anything to eat. I hope you don't mind."

"There is no need for that," a woman said behind him. "You can share a meal with me."

Cameron looked over his shoulder to find a woman standing there. She was of middling height and build, and her hair was streaked with red and had leaves woven into it. He stood and offer her his hand.

"Cameron Mitchell, ma'am."

"Lya," she replied, shaking his hand gently. "You don't belong now."

He ducked his head. "No, I don't. I was hoping you could help me out."

"We can not send you back where you belong. That time no long exists within your own potential futures."

"I figured that'd be the case," he said quietly. "I just need somewhere out of the way to live, where I can't change things for the worse. This was the only place I could think of where I could do that, besides maybe Keb."

Lya smiled at him. "You are welcome here, Cameron Mitchell. The Nox are friends to all, especially those in need."

Relief flooded through his body, washing away a tension he'd had for so long he had barely noticed it any more. He had done his duty, now he could finally get some rest. "Thank you."


	2. Chapter 2

Earth, John had discovered, was not the land of rest and relaxation he had been imagining for the last year. It was instead the land of endless meetings and mountains of paperwork. The table in the conference room he was using as an office was covered in piles of folders thanks to the fact that unlike Atlantis the SGC had yet to join the 21st century and discover the wonders of electronic forms. With the expedition almost doubling in size there was an astounding amount of work to be done to get everything and everyone in order, and an even more astounding amount of arguing with people in the SGC's supply and personnel departments to get what he needed. It was getting to the point where he was questioning whether his promotion was quite as great as it seemed. By the last week before departure, John was starting to think that if Sumner had been forced to put up with half as much crap while assembling the original expedition it was no wonder he was so grumpy all the time.

Also, John's Class A uniform itched.

"Sir, if you don't stop scratching yourself, I'm going to be forced to take drastic action," Lorne said from across the table, where he was filing out paperwork at least twice as fast as John was.

"I'm a lieutenant colonel, Lorne," John said. "I can scratch if I want to."

"I suppose that's true, sir, if you don't mind looking like a monkey."

John sometimes wondered why he put up with Lorne. "That's insubordination, Major."

"I suppose it is, Colonel. Pass me that red folder, would you?"

"I could write you up for it," John said as he passed the folder.

"You could, but you won't. Blue folder, left hand side - needs your initials on the first page, signature on the last."

John grunted in reply. It was true, because at that late date John had no intention on going through the rigmarole associated with choosing another executive officer. Among other things, it would require actually reviewing service records and qualifications and so forth, as opposed to just seeing Lorne's name on the candidate and picking it without looking at the rest. John liked selecting new officers and senior enlisted, but mostly because he found it entertaining to interview them and see if they had important qualities like a sense of humor that didn't show up in personnel files. The process of choosing who to interview by trying to see what was bullshit and what was real in those files was something he preferred leaving up to Lorne, because he was actually good at it.

"You want to go grab a couple beers after we're done?" John asked as he initialed and signed. "I know a couple places that are good."

Lorne looked up from his file. "I'm pretty sure you have other plans, sir."

"What, with McKay or something? I'm going to be trapped in ship with him for three weeks. I'm not spending more time with him than I have to." John leaned forward and gazed at Lorne with wide puppy eyes. "Come on, Major. We've only got a few days left on Earth. Liven up a little, come have some fun."

"As I said, sir, you have other plans. If you finish that pile there, we'll be done for the day and I'll tell you what they are."

John frowned and checked his watch. "It's only 1650. Are we really an hour ahead of schedule?"

"We're actually twenty minutes behind the schedule I had come up with, because I underestimated your ability to procrastinate."

"Insubordination, Major," John muttered. As he worked faster, he asked, "So, you made plans for us, eh? Is this because you don't trust my plans after, you know. The thing?"

Lorne's eyebrows went up. "Completely unrelated, sir, although now that you mention it your non-military plans do suck. Not in a good way, either."

John was certain that he had never been this annoying when he was someone's subordinate. Yes, he did have a habit of occasionally disobeying orders, possess non-regulation hair, make COs airsick with stunt flying in cargo aircraft, and generally disrespect authority; yes, Lorne could work logistical and personnel miracles, remained calm and well-groomed in trying circumstances, and in general made life much easier; but at least John didn't back-talk and snark.

Except for when he did.

"There, done," John said ten minutes later. Lorne had finished his own work already and was fiddling with his cell phone. "What's our plan?"

"My plan is to hit a bar and possibly get laid, sir. Your plan is different."

John sighed. "And what is my plan?"

Lorne suddenly started to grin broadly. "According to Walter, who's usually reliable about this sort of thing, Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell should just be finishing up a meeting with General Landry. He's not staying on base, but if you hurry you can probably catch him near his office on Level 24."

John stared blankly at Lorne. "Cameron Mitchell. As in our Cameron Mitchell?"

Lorne nodded. "Well, your Cameron Mitchell, sir, but yes."

"Here. On this base."

"Yes, sir," Lorne said. He checked his watch with exaggerated care. "Although if you don't get moving, he may not be here for much longer."

Lorne looked like a cat who had just presented his owner with a dead mouse, reminding John of another thing Lorne was that he wasn't: smug. John really, really didn't know why he put up with it. He had no time to complain, though, because he was too busy leaping from his seat and jogging down the corridor to the nearest elevator shaft. It took a stupidly long time - maybe an entire minute - for an elevator to arrive and then take him down to the right level. He passed several other people until finally he saw the man he was looking for coming down an otherwise empty corridor. Like John he was wearing his dress uniform; unlike John, he wasn't rumpled-looking in the least.

Another officer, upon seeing an old lover for the first time in nearly a year and a half, might do many things. He might say hello, wave, shake his hand, maybe even go so far as to briefly embrace him in a way that wouldn't draw suspicion. Maybe he would smile and nod, or pass some sort of super-secret hand signal to profess undying devotion. Even on base, the choices were considerable.

Cam smiled and started to raise his hand for a high-five. John, being John, took the opportunity to punch him.

"Ow," Cam said, holding his jaw.

"Um." John looked up and down the corridor and was glad to see no one had witnessed what he had done. It would be inconvenient, to say the least. "Are you okay?"

"Less okay than I was before!" Cam snapped. "What was that about?"

"It might be best to explain that somewhere else. I've got a hotel room off-base. You want to come with me, maybe get a bite to eat, catch a game on TV or something?" John emphasized the word something, in the hopes that Cam would still be interested in 'something' after getting punched. In John's experience, it was usually the case.

Cam stared at him incredulously before shaking his head and laughing. "Nice to see you too, Sheppard."

"Oh. Yeah, hi."

Cam sighed again and led John back to the elevator and up to the security station on Level 15, then up again and out the mountain's main entrance. In the parking lot they climbed aboard Cam's gigantic truck and set off for the hotel. For some reason, Cam wouldn't let John drive.

"Do you feel like explaining why you suddenly decided to start smacking me around?" Cam asked as they zipped down the highway.

"I'm a little bit pissed at you," John admitted.

"We haven't seen each other since you left for Antarctica, John. Unless one of my emails offended you and you forgot to mention it at the time, I don't know what you're pissed about." Cam snorted and shook his head. "If anyone should be pissed, it's me. Seriously - who sends a video message that's nothing more than, "So long, Cam. It was great," when they think they're going to die?"

Someone who wanted to make sure his last act as far as Earth was concerned - as opposed to his last act of being sucked dry or vaporized by the self destruct - wasn't outing the man he loved to the entire Stargate program, that was who.

"I thought it was eloquent," John said, "and I'm not the one with communication problems in this relationship. Maybe I couldn't say it outright, but you knew damned well what I was talking about when I asked whether I should go on the expedition."

"What's that got to do with - oh." Cam winced and kept his eyes firmly on the road and rear view mirror, not glancing at John even from the corner of his eye.

"Oh? You said go for it and that you'd be fine while you were in traction! After crashing your spaceship!"

"It wasn't like that, John," Cam said.

"I only found out you'd been hurt when I got back and found some emails from Momma updating me on your condition. You could have been crippled, Cam, and you let me go off to another galaxy."

"I knew I'd be fine, and I knew you had to go to Atlantis," Cam said quietly. "I also knew that if I told you anything you'd never go, so I figured it wouldn't hurt anything to tell you until you got back. I probably shoulda realized Momma might meddle."

John quirked an eyebrow. "You knew all that? What, can you see the future?"

Cam finally looked at John with a smile. "Would you believe me if I said that I could?"

"That depends on if you touched any wacky Ancient technology," John said, finding himself smiling as well. The problem with Cam, John had often found, was that he was the sort of person who really was as selfless and cheerful as he seemed. It made it damned hard to stay angry with him. That went doubly true when the alternative would have meant John would never have gone to Atlantis. "Anyways. How are you doing?"

"I'm great. I finally finished therapy and got my medical clearance a week ago. Since I didn't have to report for duty until today, I headed home to spend some time with the family. If I'd heard you guys had gotten back I'd have come early instead."

John shook his head. "It wouldn't have done you much good. We only got a few days off and since then we've been pulling ten or twelve hour days getting ready to head back ho - back to Atlantis. Unless you like listening to me snore, I wouldn't have been good company."

"That sucks," Cam said. "They should have given you more leave."

"It wouldn't have been fair to everyone who stayed behind. We've at least got the evenings free from here to departure, though. "

"I suppose that's convenient for us."

"Yep," John said. Convenient, all right. He wondered if he could convince Elizabeth to give him Saturday off. That would allow for a lot more convenience. Or something. Convenient something.

Cam waited a minute before asking, "So, now that we can actually talk about this - the stargate. Very cool, or coolest thing ever?"

"I have to go with only 'very cool'," John said. "Three words: mind-reading spaceships."

"What, seriously?"

"Yep."

They spent the rest of the ride catching up and trading stories. John told him about the time he was almost eaten by a bug and died for a whole minute; Cam waved away a year of physiotherapy as 'just a little problem'. John talked about kicking Wraith ass; Cam filled him in on what had happened in Antarctica. John told him about the his team and maybe, just maybe rambled on a lot about Rodney; Cam gave him an indulgent and infuriatingly approving smile, and revealed that how he now had command of SG-1, which consisted of himself.

"I'm just saying," Cam said after they reached the hotel and were walking to John's room. "If you could convince Doctor Weir that Jackson's just a giant trouble magnet and she'd be better off leaving him behind, I'd really appreciate it."

"I don't think she's going to listen," John said as he opened is door. From the way Elizabeth had been talking, she had scored a major coup in getting Jackson's reassignment to Atlantis approved. Somehow John didn't think she was going to just give him because John's lover wanted him instead. "If you really want to keep him, then you need to make him miss our departure. Now, I'm not saying that you should kidnap him, but in my experience - gah!"

As soon as the door closed behind them, John found himself pressed up against the wall by two hundred pounds of pilot. Then he found himself being kissed by said pilot, and then he finally got with the program and kissed Cam back. It was wet, it was sloppy, it was a bit messy because they were both horribly out of practice, but above all else it was achingly familiar. John ran his hands up Cam's back and felt the strong muscles under the uniform, and as his own body started to respond he became increasingly aware of just how restrictive the fabric of his own pants was.

The fabric of his dress pants. That was bad.

"Wait, wait, wait," John gasped. "Clothes off first."

"Mmm, I think I've waited long enough." Cam dropped to his knees and started to deftly undo John's fly. He tugged down John's pants and boxers in one go and grinned up at him.

"Seriously," John said, voice rough with anticipation, "I'm not doing this in uniform." That was all the further he got before Cam started to suck him and John lost all ability to say anything but "oh God" and "yeah" and "fuck". Shortly after that he wasn't able to say a thing at all and everything became a blur. The next thing John knew the only reasons he wasn't falling over weak-kneed were the supporting arms of an extraordinarily smug Cam.

"I'm sorry, you were complaining about something?" Cam asked innocently once John was able to focus on him again.

"It's a good thing I don't have to wear this often," John grumbled. He staggered over to the nearest bed, sat down heavily, and bent over to fumble with his shoelaces. "Getting turned on by my own uniform while trying to work would be really fucking embarrassing."

"I supposed that could be inconvenient," Cam agreed. "I mean, just imagine sitting across the table from Landry tomorrow and remembering this."

"Shut up," John groaned. He hated Cam. He really, really hated Cam. He especially hated the way Cam was taking off his own uniform in an entirely too slow and deliberate strip-tease like manner. John was going to end up with a fucking complex at this rate.

Cam paused while neatly folding up his pants. "Wait a second. Hey, since you're still mostly dressed, could you run out to my truck? I've got a bag with some spare clothes and my toothbrush in the back seat." Cam grinned as John glared at him and shrugged. "Never mind. It can wait."

"Cam?" John said as he all but tore off his clothes, with none of the care Cam had shown.

"Yeah?"

"There's lube and condoms in a bag in the top dresser drawer," John said. He finally got off everything but his tags and spread out on the bed. "If you don't get them out, get over here, and fuck me, I'm going to kill you."

"Yes, sir, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, sir," Cam said. Heightmeyer was going to be able to write a fucking book about John by the time this was all over. John heard the drawer open and the sound of a zipper, followed immediately by Cam saying, "Oh, _hello_."

"You can play with those later," John snapped, knowing what Cam had just found. He wasn't embarrassed at all. Really. The nights could get lonely in Atlantis and a man had needs, and John couldn't be blamed for taking the opportunity to get some personal items.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Cam said. Then he finally climbed onto the bed. Shortly after that things got a bit blurry again.

They didn't leave the room at all that evening, ordering room service instead of going out to eat. They even went so far as to indulge themselves by spending the night in the same bed. It wasn't too big of a risk, with only a few other people who could possibly recognize them staying at the hotel.

One of whom showed up pounding on John's door in the morning.

"Good morning, Major!" Rodney said, bright and perky and apparently oblivious to the fact that John was standing there in his boxers.

"Lieutenant Colonel," John corrected automatically. "Is the planet going to blow up?"

"No," Rodney said with a frown. "I came to see if you wanted to get breakfast together. Did I wake you up?"

"Yeah," John said, yawning and scratching at the stubble on his jaw. "Alarm was about to go off anyways."

"Really? Because usually you've already gotten up and done your weird running thing at oh-dark-thirty. Are you feeling okay? You better not be getting sick, because I won't be responsible for what happens if you get on the ship and infect -" There was a soft sound from inside the room. Rodney's eyes widened comically. "Ooooooooh. I see how it is. Anyone I know?" He tried to peer past John, but John closed the door a little more and Cam wasn't stupid enough to come in view anyways

"No," John said; the truth as far as he knew, which was good because it meant he didn't have to lie to Rodney. John would have told him in a heartbeat, because Rodney could keep a secret when it counted, but it wasn't his decision to make alone. "I'll have to take a rain check on breakfast," he said after a moment, hoping Rodney would get the hint.

"Of course, of course," Rodney said. He didn't move.

"I'm going to close the door now," John said.

"Right. See you later, Major."

"Colonel." John shut the door firmly. Cam wandered over a moment later and wrapped himself around John from behind.

"Who was that?" Cam asked.

"Rodney. I'll introduce you later."

"Cool."

"We should probably shower and get dressed if we want to eat and get to the mountain on time."

"Mmmm," Cam rumbled. "It'd go faster if we showered together.

John considered the size of the shower, was briefly glad the Air Force had actually paid for a halfway-decent room for once, and said, "Probably not, but let's give it a shot."

They managed to arrive on time, but only the only thing they had to eat were some donuts snagged from the hotel's complementary breakfast.

The next week went much the same way, although they went through the motions of leaving separately and not spending the night. They went to work, they spent the day either feverishly making preparations or trying to find acceptable team members, and they spent the evenings and the weekend catching up and fucking like rabbits. John found himself relaxing more in a few days than he had in the entire preceding year. He was going back to Atlantis as the military commander, he was a lieutenant colonel, he was getting laid, and he was spending time with Cam. It wasn't quite perfect - perfect would have been enough time to head home to see Cam's parents - but it was as close as John had gotten in a long time.

John didn't get a chance to say goodbye to Cam before he left the planet, because of some sort of emergency that involved Doctor Jackson and a space pirate. John wasn't entirely clear on the details. He wasn't terribly broken up about it, though. He never liked trying to say goodbye, because it made him all wibbly and stupid. It was embarrassing, to say the least. Instead he left a note.

It said, "See you around, Cam." John thought it was eloquent.


	3. Chapter 3

It took _Odyssey_ seventeen days to reach Atlantis from Earth. The plan for the mission had been finalized another week before departure. Cam thought that should have been more than enough time to get control of himself, but he hadn't counted on just how damn boring an honest-to-God intergalactic star cruiser could be when you were stuck on it for three weeks. He found himself spending an inordinate amount of time in the gym working out and in his quarters catching up on the latest technical reports and intelligence briefs in the hopes that no one would noticed that he was all but about to explode. Even then, he was pretty sure that the only reason Sam or Vala hadn't commented on him was that Daniel was all but bouncing off the walls by the end of the trip.

Cam didn't try to hide the smile on his face when he and his team stepped off the gangway and out into the bright sun and clean sea air of Atlantis. That seemed safe enough, after all, what with the entire 'fresh air' thing being a relief. The danger came when they reached the bottom of the ramp and found a fluffy-haired lieutenant colonel waiting for them. At that point the smile turned into irrepressibly huge grin. Cam knew exactly what he looked like, because he'd seen the exact same stupid look on his brother Ash's face when he'd brought his fiancée home the first time - namely, like a giant puppy getting his ears scratched.

"Colonel Mitchell, Colonel Carter" John said, with a sketchy wave towards his forehead that had about as much in common with a salute as a fox did with a beagle. "Doctor Jackson. Welcome to Atlantis."

"What, don't I get welcomed?" Vala said from next to Daniel.

"Just saving the best for last, ma'am," John said. "I don't think we met. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, at your service."

"Vala Mal Doran. It is a _pleasure_ to meet you."

Cam bit his tongue to keep from snapping something unfortunate, like 'touch him and I'll kill you', because teammates just shouldn't do that sort of thing in public. Instead he kept on smiling and said, "It's good to see you again, Sheppard."

"Same here, Mitchell."

"You two know each other?" Sam asked.

"Oh, yeah, we're old friends," Cam answered. "We did some flight training together, and we've been stationed together here and there a few times since then."

She nodded. "It must be nice to be in the program together."

"Yeah, it definitely is," John said. "It's good to have someone to write to in the know."

"Although the different galaxies thing makes it a bit hard to get together for a beer," Cam said. "It's been, what, over a year since we saw each other in person?"

"Three-hundred ninety-seven days," John said. He paused, then added, "Five-hundred seventy-six for me, what with the time dilation thing."

Cam winced, because even after eight months he still wanted to have Words with John's team about letting people get trapped inside weird time bubbles.

"That must have been, what, when you were trying to put the team back together?" Daniel asked Cam. He looked at John and went on, "I was supposed to be coming with you guys, but someone made that impossible."

Vala pointedly ignored him in favor of looking around at the buildings.

John's brows scrunched up for a moment as he tried to figure out what that meant but gave up. "Anyways, we've got about an hour before the mission briefing, which should give you all time to stretch your legs a bit and get a quick tour. Lorne should be around here somewhere...."

"Sir?" Lorne said from right behind John.

John jumped and turned around. "Where did you come from?"

"I've been here the whole time, sir," Lorne replied with a straight face.

"No, you weren't."

"Yes, I was, sir."

"He was," Cam lied.

John eyed them both suspiciously before going on. "Lorne here can show you around. Although, Mitchell, if you don't mind there's a few things I'd like to discuss with you."

"I don't know," Cam said with feigned reluctance. "Is it important?"

"Very important," John confirmed. "Vital military matters concerning the fate of two galaxies and all that."

"I suppose I should come with you, then," Cam said. He looked at his team. "Go on with Lorne and I'll see you in a bit. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

He wasn't sure that any of them were actually paying attention to him by that point, but it wasn't like that was an unusual state of affairs. He and John started to walk off side by side, while behind them Cam heard Vala say, "So, Major Lorne, was it? It's very nice to meet you, by the way. Tell me, what do you do for fun around here?"

John and Cam passed through an archway leading into a nearby building, picking up their pace as they got out of sight. A dozen yards down the hall John pulled Cam aside into a closet, tapped a control panel, and a moment later they were somewhere else. It took another long minute of walking after that before the door of John's quarters finally shut behind them.

They stood in silence for a few moments, just looking at each other, until Cam said, "So. It's been a while."

"Yeah," John said. "Yeah, it has."

"We've got an hour?"

"Call it fifty minutes, since you always want to show up early."

"I think I can make an exception this time," Cam said, then pulled John close and kissed him.

After that came a scramble to undress, a tumble onto the bed, and fumbled groping so desperate that it would put teenagers to shame. Cam had imagined this for months, how they would slowly reacquaint themselves with each other's bodies and work up to a moment of tender, loving, passionate release; in practice they rutted hard and fast against each other from the word go and the only thing Cam could get reacquainted with through the haze of desire was John's penchant for quick and sloppy blowjobs.

They eventually ended up spooned close together, forced to squeeze tight because John's bed was so small that Cam's feet were hanging off the end. Neither of them were about to complain about the enforce closeness, though.

"Vital military matters, huh?" Cam after he'd caught his breath.

John chuckled. "I figure that if the leader of SG-1 died of blue balls, it would be detrimental to planetary security."

Cam snorted into John's hair. "Please, I'm not that desperate."

"You mean you're not pining for me every minute?"

"Nope, can't say that I am."

"Damn. Here I was, thinking we were star-crossed lovers, doomed to long for each other from opposite sides of the intergalactic void, and now you've gone and shattered the whole illusion."

"I thought you turned into a bug, not a teenage girl."

John elbowed Cam in the side. "We don't talk about the bug thing."

"Fine, fine," Cam said. After a minute, he added softly, "I do miss you all the time, though."

John squirmed in Cam's arms. "Yeah. I miss you, too. Like. A lot. Your absence is like a... hole. Thing. In my soul."

Cam couldn't see John's face, but he knew what expression he was wearing: a cross between 'trapped animal' and 'constipated'. Cam himself tended more towards grand declarations and an open heart, but he knew that a bit of humor was probably the closest he'd get to that from John. He didn't mind that John had the emotional maturity of a squash; the rest of him more than made up for that particular flaw.

"I don't suppose you've got any leave coming soon, would you?" Cam asked. "It's been a year, after all. A year and a half, for you."

"I probably should, yeah, but you know how hard it is to get out here. Rodney's been talking about finding a way to make travel faster, though, so maybe once he's got it figured out I'll have a chance of actually getting some."

"Cool."

It wasn't long before they had to get up and get dressed again. The briefing was a briefing, no different from any at the SGC besides an exponentially greater amount of bluster thanks to McKay. The mission was a mission, only instead of listening to Sam and Daniel babble endlessly Cam listened to Sam and McKay bicker endlessly. They took out a hive ship, an Ori mothership, and sealed the supergate all in one go. All in all, Cam had to say things went pretty well, at least on his end. Other people might not necessarily agree.

"Did you seriously threaten Rodney with the lemon?" John hissed at him in the Atlantis mess the evening they returned. He had a hunted look on his face and kept glancing over his shoulder at the door.

Cam grinned. "It worked like a charm. Thanks for the tip."

"It was a joke! You weren't supposed to actually do it!"

"Hey, you told me to," Cam said with a shrug.

"I told you to shoot him, too, but you didn't think I meant that, did you?" John's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Did you?"

"'Course not."

"Good. I can only imagine how much worse his bitching would be if you'd stunned him or something. I'd never hear the end of it." John glanced around to see if there was anyone nearby and then leaned forward across the table. "Listen, I know you've probably heard a few things about Rodney -"

"Oh, have I ever," Cam interjected.

"But he's not nearly as bad as people say he is." John paused momentarily. "Usually. But he's got a lot of really great points, too, and his friendship means a lot to me. So I'd appreciate it you two got along."

"Hey, your friends are my friends, no problem." If John liked him - and given that about half of what he wrote home was about McKay, ranging from 'McKay made someone cry' to 'I kicked Rodney's ass playing chess' to 'Rodney saved my life for the hundredth time', it was pretty clear he did - then Cam was willing to give McKay a chance, no matter what his reputation was back at the SGC. Hell, Cam would put up with McKay even if he was the ogre he was supposed to be as long as he kept John alive.

As they ate, a dark-skinned woman approached their table. "May I join the two of you?"

"Sure," John said after quickly swallowing. "Teyla, Colonel Cameron Mitchell of SG-1. Cam, Teyla. She's on my team and the leader of the Athosians."

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Cam said.

"And you as well, Colonel," Teyla replied with a nod. She sat down next to John and asked Cam, "Tell me, are you the one who attempted to kill Rodney during his recent mission?"

"I didn't try to kill him!" Cam protested. "I just waved a lemon at him to make him focus a bit, it's not like I shoved it down his throat."

"I had suspected he may have been exaggerating, although now I must wonder why you would do such a thing," Teyla said, while looking at John.

"I have no clue where he got the idea," John said with an innocent expression. Teyla didn't seem to be buying it at all.

"I came up with it myself," Cam said. "Scientists at the SGC said it works like garlic does against vampires.

"Your loyalty is admirable," Teyla told him, "although perhaps misplaced and perhaps even abused in this case."

Cam let out a long-suffering sigh and shook his head. "It's nothing I'm not used. I had to cover for him all the time back when we were lieutenants. He was constantly getting in trouble, or at least he would have if it weren't for me."

"Don't believe a word he says," John told Teyla. "He was always there right along with me."

"That's a load of bull," Cam said with his best 'aww, shucks' drawl. "I was just an innocent farm boy getting dragged into mischief by my neer-do-well companion."

"Do people even say neer-do-well anymore?" John asked.

"My gran'ma did."

"Figures."

Teyla smiled at them both. "I am sure you were both fine young men, if perhaps -"

"Too well-behaved?" John interjected.

Cam suggested, "More dashing than anyone has a right to be?"

"A trial for those older than you," she finished. "I pity your parents. I believe the proper Earth phrase is, 'they must have been saints'."

John's lips pressed tight together for a moment. Cam was quick to say, "My momma certainly is one. Not because of me, of course, but because of my little brother."

"Who took after you," John said, smiling again. "If having to deal with two of you, plus all the cousins, isn't reason for sainthood, nothing is."

"You have a large family, Colonel Mitchell?" Teyla asked.

"It's Cam."

She inclined her head in acknowledgment. "Cam."

"He doesn't have a family," John said before Cam could actually answer. "He has a horde."

"I've got a younger brother," Cam said. "Plus my momma helped raise about a dozen cousins my age when people were deployed or otherwise away from home. I won't even try to give you a number for how many people show up for holidays."

"Thousands," John said.

"Oh, come on. Fifty or sixty, at most." Cam shook his head. "John was a bit traumatized when I dragged him home for Christmas leave, not long after we met."

John had grown up in a world where the holiday season meant suits, receptions, formal six-course dinners, and rules that controlled everything from what you could talk about with whom to what fork to use when; from there he had moved on to institutionalized Air Force meals. With Cam's family, it meant gifts, gossip, a buffet enough food to feed a battalion, and a lack of strict rules beyond 'no politics'. To say that John had been left a little shell shocked was an understatement. The size of the whole extended clan - okay, maybe it was a little horde-like - had just been icing on the cake.

"I see," Teyla said, with an impressed tone underlying her words. It took Cam a second to dredge up a combination of barely-remembered briefings and letters from John to remember that his family probably wasn't all that much smaller than her entire civilization. "I must admit I am surprised to hear that. So many of your people here have such small families, or no families at all, that I have often wondered if it was the norm."

"It's just the nature of the expedition," John told her. "Most of first and second waves volunteered and were selected because they don't have much in the way of connections back home."

"Still, your movies and books seem to indicate that two parents and two children, with only occasional contact with other parts of the family, is normal."

"It is for some people, but I guess my family's a bit weird," Cam said. "You should hunt down Doctor Jackson sometime tonight. I bet he'd love to explain the evolution of Earth family structures or just about anything else you need to know. You'd probably get a lot better explanation than you would from this guy."

John crossed his arms and frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that maybe someone who's idea of high culture is Star Trek might not be the best person to explain the details of American society, let alone anything about the rest of the planet. You don't even have good taste in football teams."

"I can explain society just fine!"

Teyla coughed politely. "You can be... confusing at times, John. Especially when you and Rodney begin to disagree." She looked to Cam. "They once spent over half an hour arguing about the use of the letter 'U' in the spelling of certain words. It was very odd."

Wincing in sympathy, Cam said, "That must make long missions a bit tiresome."

"Hey!"

"It does," she agreed. "Especially when we take long flights in the jumper. Please do not take this the wrong way, John, but Major Lorne is much more pleasant to take such trips with than you, especially when Rodney is along as well."

"Lorne has some kind of mind-control powers," John grumbled. "It doesn't mean there's something wrong with me."

Inspiration struck Cam and he grinned broadly. "Yeah, Lorne is a lot more fun on long trips. Let me tell you about this time we were all stationed at Edwards."

"Oh, no," John said.

"John and I had just made captain, while Lorne was freshly minted first lieutenant. He was so young, so earnest, so easily corruptible. Now, we were pilots and he was a logistics officer, but somehow we fell in together -"

"Okay, Cam, time for you to shut up," John growled. "Seriously. Quiet."

"- possibly because it's always a good idea to have someone in the supply department who's a friend," Cam continued, not adding that it was also because Lorne shared certain proclivities with them and that John had taken it upon himself to watch out for the younger man. "So anyways, the three of us unexpectedly got a week's leave because... well, let's not go into what happened to poor Major Armstrong."

"Keep talking and you'll be on the couch tonight," John said with a narrow-eyed scowl that threatened death and destruction.

"Is he not staying in the guest quarters?" Teyla asked, while Cam just laughed at the threat.

"As if you have that kind of willpower," he scoffed. "So as I was saying, Teyla, there wasn't really time to head home or anything, so we decided to just take a little trip. Somehow John ended up in charge, which was definitely our first mistake...."

Cam launched into the Epic Tale of Lorne's Worst Road Trip Ever, or at least a version of it which slightly downplayed his own role in the more disastrous portions of it. They had headed west from Edwards until they hit the coast, ventured north until they reached San Francisco, and then looped back down through some of the state's inland wilderness. Along the way John had tried to teach Cam and Lorne - farm boys from inland North Carolina and Iowa, respectively - to surf, nearly drowning Lorne in the process; they had gone out bar hopping with some of John's friends in San Francisco, during which Lorne got groped and covered with glitter; they had visited Yosemite, where Lorne was nearly eaten by a bear after John spilled chili on him; and finally stopped at one of John's favorite restaurants, which gave Lorne food poisoning. John did not come out entirely unscathed, as Lorne had coated the back seat of his beloved corvette with slime straight out of _The Exorcist_. Needless to say, there had been a certain amount of groveling afterwards.

"... and that's why Lorne owns John's soul," Cam concluded.

While Teyla laughed, John raised his face from where he'd buried it in his arms and groaned, "Not anymore, he doesn't. He blew up my Ancient battleship. I think that makes us even."

"He was saving your life, from what I hear," Cam pointed out. "I'm willing to bet he spends half his time cleaning up your messes."

"He does not," John muttered.

"While half is perhaps an exaggeration, it does appear to be a major part of his duties," Teyla said. "In fact, Cam's story has reminded me of the time he was forced to retrieve us following our failed diplomatic mission to Mederon. You see, during the banquet in our honor, John and Rodney -"

"Oh, hey, look at the time," John said, suddenly standing up. "I think I owe the colonel a tour. We should get going. We wouldn't want him to leave tomorrow without having seen the city."

"Actually, I think I'd like to hear Teyla's story," Cam told him.

"I said, _we should get going_," John repeated in a not-quite-growl.

Cam grinned and stood. "Okay, then. Nice meeting you, Teyla."

"And you as well, Colonel Mitchell." She shot him an impish smile. "I hope to speak with you again some day."

The tour, such as it was, started with the jumper bay, where Cam got a chance to stare longingly at the little ships and wish their schedule allowed for even one more day before departure. He had gotten the gene therapy and it had taken, and while they weren't near as sleek as 302s he'd give a leg to fly a ship that read his mind.

"I don't suppose I could take one home?" he asked, trying not to sound too plaintive and failing miserably.

"Nope," John replied.

"Any chance of a test flight?"

John got a shifty look on his face. "Elizabeth, ah, frowns upon unscheduled after-hours flights. Something to do with a slight accident some of the other pilots had a few months ago."

"Other pilots," Cam repeated.

"Other pilots. I guess you can't expect better of half-trained marines, especially ones who aren't actual marine aviators. Or more accurately, marines and a botanist."

"And an Air Force pilot, too, I imagine."

"Maybe," John allowed. "You'll just have to find a reason to visit again soon."

"I'm sure Carter and Jackson can do that," Cam said. "In fact, if they had their way we'd probably never go back."

That came out more wistful than he had intended, because truth be told he would love to find have good reason to stick around as well, and if the sharp glance John sent him was indication he had picked it up.

"You're not going to get mushy on me, are you?" John asked, tone half suspicious and half worried.

"Naw," Cam said easily. "I'm just jealous of your spaceships."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Good. Because if you got mushy on me, I'd have to rethink this entire relationship thing."

Cam snorted at that. If John was going to get scared off by 'mushy' - and in John's world, just about anything other than manly stoicness and off-kilter humor counted as 'mushy' - then he would have fled in terror the first time Cam had used a certain forbidden four-letter word. There had been a few close calls here and there, but it'd been a long time since Cam had been worried about losing John over something like 'mushy'.

"If you're having second thoughts," Cam said, never mind that second would probably be off by an order of magnitude or so, "maybe you and I should find somewhere I can give you a few extra points to consider."

A lazy smile spread across John's face. "That can be arranged, sure. Come one."

They went down a few levels to the control room, which was every bit as pretty at night as it was during the day and nothing at all like the SGC, breezing through with a quick wave to the techs on duty. ("Hi Chuck." "Hi sir." "Bye Chuck." "Bye, sir.") Next stop was a lab, same as any other lab back home except it had a window and even more geeks working after-hours, including the Man himself. ("What is _he_ doing here?" "Play nice, Rodney.") They passed through the military headquarters building, where Cam was suitably impressed by the size of John's... armory, and down six levels from there to the chair room. John had a wicked gleam in his eye as he informed Cam that one of these days he would get Weir to let him fly the city; Cam prayed to God that he would be there to see it because that would be absolutely awesome.

That was apparently it for the tour, because after that they ended up on a secluded balcony out on one of the piers. It was a bit out of the way and easy to miss; they had to take two separate sets of stairs, one up into a tower and then down again, and pass through a maze of criss-crossing corridors. The view was worth the trek, though, because off to the right another pier's towers rose out of the night like glittering jewels and to the left a pair of moons were coming over the horizon.

The balcony also apparently came equipped with a woven basket, a mini-fridge, and what looked suspiciously like a rolled-up extra large camp mattress with sheets and blankets folded neatly on top.

"Well, this is fancy," Cam said as he watched John undo the straps of the mattress and start struggling to lay it out flat. "You set all this up for little old me?"

"More or less," John said. "Check the fridge, there should be some stuff in there."

"More or less?" The fridge turned out to hold a bottle of unidentifiable liquor plus two plates with large slices of pie on them. The basket had utensils, glasses, napkins, lube, and condoms. It all seemed surprisingly well-planned for John.

"I may have had a little help," John said. "This place is popular with people who need somewhere a little more private or romantic than usual. So I talked with Lorne, who talked with Parrish, who is our evil botanical overlord - and I'm serious about that, Botany and Food Services rule this place with an iron fist - and he made sure no one else was out here tonight."

"Huh." Cam stepped over to the edge of the balcony and leaned on the railing. Nice view, pleasant ocean breeze, peaceful sound of the waves a few stories below - yeah, he could see why people might come here for special occasions, and while it was exposed from certain angles the other pier was far enough that you'd need binoculars to see who was here. "So basically you brought me out here to Lookout Point to have your wicked way with me?"

John walked over and slouched back against the rail next to Cam. "I'm open to you ravishing me, too. I can be flexible."

"Mmm. I could go for some ravishing," Cam said. He turned, sidled over a step, and pressed up against John. He reached one arm around John to hold him steady and reached down to slide his free hand between them and cup John's groin. John liked that all right; his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned his head back to expose his neck. Cam took that as the invitation it was and leaned in to nuzzle at where John's jaw and neck met and nip at the skin there.

And then Cam pulled back, grinned, and said, "So, pie?"

John groaned and opened his eyes to glare at Cam. "You suck."

"Sure, in a bit." What could Cam say? He liked pie, and it wasn't as if John was going anywhere.

The pie was delicious and made from some sort of tangy cherry-like berry, almost - _almost_ \- as good as any Momma had made. It tasted even better on John's lips and tongue a few minutes later.

Wordlessly they both stripped and lay down on the mattress. This time they had all the time in the world to do it the right way. John didn't seem to quite get that and tried to rush things, of course, but Cam was nothing if not experienced at forcing John to slow down and enjoy things a bit. Cam pressed John down beneath him and took him apart bit by bit with a kiss here, a touch there, a nip at just the right spot, until John was spread out and squirming and begging for more.

Cam, being a perfect gentleman, was more than happy to oblige him,

Eventually they were both exhausted and spent. When they had first met they probably would have been already up for round two; as it was they were perfectly content just to lay beside one another. After a while Cam started to get up, but John grabbed his arm, pulled him back down, and then dragged a thick hand-made blanket over them. Cam went with it and snuggled up against John's warm body. It didn't take long before John was non-too-quietly snoozing away and Cam allowed himself to drift off into contented sleep.

Cam woke up when someone nudged him in the side with a booted foot. He opened his eyes to find the sun peeking over the horizon and Lorne standing over him. Fortunately for all concerned, there was a blanket to protect what little dignity either John or Cam still had.

"Good morning, Colonels," Lorne said, far too cheerful for the time of day. "Lovely morning, isn't it?"

Beside Cam, John groaned and opened his eyes as well. "Go away, Lorne."

Cam sat up and rubbed his forehead. "Tell me we didn't sleep out here all night."

"I'm afraid you did, sir," Lorne replied. "Your dial-out to Earth is in about an hour, sir, so I figured you'd like a wakeup call. It wouldn't do for you to show up rumpled, or not at all."

"You could have radioed," John muttered.

Lorne just barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "I tried. You're off-comms, sir."

"Oh." John looked over at the pile of their clothes, where his earpiece was undoubtedly buried. "So I am."

"I'll leave you two to get dressed." Lorne extended his hand. "Colonel Mitchell, it was nice to see you again."

Cam shook his hand. "You too, Major."

John and Cam quickly got dressed and did their best to look presentable, or at least get close enough that they could get back to their respective quarters without looking like they had spent the night screwing each other senseless. Eventually everything was in order and the two of them were left standing there and looking at each other. They both knew this was probably the last time they'd have a moment alone for God knew how long, and true to form neither of them were quite sure what to say. It wasn't anything any other military couple or family had to deal with it - Cam's own brother was stuck in Iraq with two kids back home, for God's sake, Cam didn't have any room to complain - and it wasn't like they hadn't been doing it for over fifteen years.

Still. One night didn't do a lot to take of the edge of a year's separation.

Cam broke the silence by saying, "So, I guess this is it, then."

John shrugged and nodded. "Seems like it."

Cam reached out and poked John in the chest. "You write more often, you hear? Don't act like you don't have time."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll try, but don't expect me to write novels like you do." John smirked. "Although Rodney came up with a special encryption and compression algorithm for us to use, to make it easier to share private videos."

Cam raised an eyebrow. "Purely for the purpose of sending family-friendly messages, I'm sure."

John's smirk grew wider. "Among other things."

"Mmm-hmm. Well, I look forward to getting one, then." Oh, did he ever. "And seeing you in person. Seriously, I know you don't want to, but get some leave soon. The city's not going to fall apart without you here."

John sighed and nodded. "I'll see what I can do. I'll probably have to come back for meetings at some point anyways."

"Good. Aim for the holidays, if you can." John started to open his mouth and Cam knew exactly what he was going to say: something about that not being fair to his men, that he'd be taking a spot from someone else, and so forth. Cam didn't give him a chance to get any of it out. "In fact, I'll tell Momma to expect you either Thanksgiving or Christmas, barring an emergency. Don't think she won't beat your ass if you blow it off."

John chuckled. "That's a dirty move, Cam."

"It's part of the SG-1 handbook: when gentle cajoling and reason fail, try threats and blackmail."

"No wonder you people are always starting interstellar wars."

Cam stepped closer to John and pulled him into a hug. "Gonna miss you, you know," he whispered into John's ear. "And in case I haven't said it lately, I love you."

John groaned but hugged him back anyways. "I thought we weren't getting mushy."

"Fuck you, Sheppard. I'll get as mushy as I damn well please."

"I guess I can put up with it for a minute, but only because I... you know. You too."

"Good. I think."

They broke apart and smiled at each other for a few long moments. Then Cam ducked in, gave John a quick peck on the lips, and with that they walked side-by-side into the city.


	4. Chapter 4

"Nothing I can say is going to change your mind, is it?" John asked.

Landry's eyebrows sprang up in mock surprise. "Finally realize that, have you? Doctor McKay is far more valuable at Area 51 than he would be here, and especially more than he would be going off-world."

John nodded sharply. "If you say so, sir."

"I do," Landry said in a firm tone that left no room for further disagreement. He sat back in his chair. "Now, as for yourself, we're reactivating the SG-15 designation and putting you in charge. The previous team was broken up due to an unfortunate botanical accident."

"Will I be able to choose my own team, sir?" John asked, relieved that at least he wouldn't be stuck behind a desk. If he could grab one or two of his men, it would be even better.

"To an extent," Landry answered. "Walter will give you a list of candidates. We have several promising young recruits who I'd like to get some field experience, and given that you've been wrangling an entire base of marines, you seem like the logical choice to ride herd on them."

"I... see, sir. I'm not sure that's the best idea, though," John said. He tried to find a way of explaining why Lorne had forbidden him from training any more personnel after the yak incident that wouldn't make him sound completely incompetent. "I don't have the best record with trainees."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine, Colonel," Landry said with a smile. "I understand that you want to go back into the field immediately. Most of your old unit's taking at least a month or two of leave - well-earned leave, I might add - and it might be a good idea for you to get some down time as well."

"I'd rather keep working, sir," John said immediately. Off-world, he could at least pretend he was still home and just out for a trip with one of the other teams.

"Funny, Major Lorne said the same thing when I was talking with him this morning. He's taking over SG-22, by the way."

"That's good to hear, sir."

"I could hardly stick a man with his record and experience on someone else's team." Landry leaned forward. "Of course, sooner or later you'll both have to get some downtime, whether you like it or not. If I were you, I'd find a way to get some one your own terms."

John could guess what that meant. No doubt somewhere on the base there was a horde of psychologists lurking in wait, salivating at the thought of sinking their teeth into the returned Lanteans. John suspected they might not be quite as understanding about the weird quirks that people developed working in Atlantis as Heightmeyer had been. She had been there with them, through nanovirii, sieges, and the aftermath of cullings; she understood how you had to adapt. Maybe the SGC's teams and staff had to deal with a lot of strange shit, but at least they got to get out after work. Atlantis could be every bit as dangerous as other worlds at times. Maybe the other guys had the right idea in taking their leave now and getting a chance to decompress.

"I'll keep that in mind, sir." He hesitated, then added, "Actually, I was thinking it would be nice to head home for Thanksgiving, maybe Christmas too. I know you have to get a lot of requests for then...."

Landry waved his concern away. "Don't worry about it. I know what it's like to spend a couple years away from the family. There was one time when Carolyn was -"

John was saved from what was probably going to be a horrific 'back in my day' story by the sound of the gate alarm. He was out of his chair and through the door to the briefing room before he realized what he was doing. He looked back at Landry, who was climbing to his feet and watching John with an amused expression.

"Sorry, sir."

"Nothing to be sorry about. Go find Walter and get that list I mentioned, I'll expect your decision about your team by tomorrow morning." With that Landry disappeared down the stairs to the control room.

John walked over to the window looking out on the gateroom just in time to see the iris slide open. It took only an instant to recognize the returning team as SG-1. Daniel Jackson was first, Colonel Carter a half-step behind him, and Teal'c followed her. An eternity (a second) later Cam came through, a bit grimy but laughing with Vala about something. He happened to glance upwards and stopped in his tracks when he saw John standing there. John gave him a half-hearted wave and tried to smile, not doing a terribly good job at it. Cam frowned; John turned and stalked off to his office.

His office. Calling it an office was a bit absurd, because as far as John could tell it was just a closet someone had cleaned out and installed phone and network jacks in sometime in the last week. His old office had probably been a closet, too, but like many Ancient closets it had a nice view of the city and a mini-fridge. Now he was twenty-three levels underground with four blank walls, a desk, a phone, and a laptop. It sucked.

Landry had underestimated Walter; not only had he already saved John the trouble of tracking him down by leaving the candidate list on his desk, but there was a stack of personnel files as well. John idly flipped through them and quickly realized that not only were there no other expedition members - not surprising, but still annoying - and that not a single one of them was over twenty-five. They all looked like really skilled and smart kids, but most of them hadn't seen so much as a day of actual combat. There had been a fair number of relatively inexperienced guys in Atlantis after the second and third waves had arrived, because it took a special kind of insanity to volunteer for a posting in vampire-filled galaxy that was most often found in the young, but they had always been surrounded by experienced senior officers and NCOs. Apparently John was supposed to turn four or five of them into actual airmen / soldiers / marines all by himself without even a sergeant to help him.

To add insult to injury, his choices for his civilian scientist consisted entirely of biologists of one flavor or another, again all gate newbies. Hopefully one of the lieutenants had a useful degree, because somehow John doubted his math masters or his half-finished doctoral thesis on helicopter control systems was going to help when some random piece of alien technology tried to kill them all.

John finally decided on Doctor Howard Bambus (botanist), Lieutenant James Wallace (Air Force), and Corporal Bob Milton (Army, suspiciously experienced and undoubtedly with some horrible flaw that wasn't in his file). He had just sent an email off to Landry when his door swung open and Cam leaned in.

"What happened?" he asked, tone casual but eyes full of worry. "Half the base is talking about how you guys got run out of Atlantis. Was there a Wraith attack or something?"

John let out a single bitter laugh. Wraith he could have dealt with. "We rescued an Ancient ship while testing the gate bridge. The first thing they did was lock the city down and tell us to take a hike. The IOA didn't feel like putting up a fight," he spread his hands to encompass his office, "so here we are."

"Shit." Cam ran his hand through his hair, then glanced around, first up and down the too-full corridor and next at that camera hanging in the corner of the office. "You still in on-base housing?"

"Yeah. There's a lieutenant up in personnel who's helping us get moved out, but..." John trailed off with a shrug. He'd been politely fending off attempts to help him relocate for several days now. Unlike some people he had never had a local apartment to begin with, and looking at places and signing a lease would just be one more step towards putting Atlantis behind him. "I've been busy."

"No wonder you look like crap, if you've been stuck down here the whole time. I have a spare room you can stay in. In fact, unless you have some reason to stick around, why don't we go change and head out? I'm starved for some real food."

"I don't think," John started to say. He was sure he would be shit for company. He was also sure that Cam would try to cheer him up and that the last thing he wanted right now was that. Cam gave him a look that said he wasn't going to listen to any excuse, though, and John knew from experience that Cam would be perfectly happy camping out in his office if that was what it took to force him to leave. John sighed. "I don't think there's anything that needs done."

They dropped by the locker room to change out of their BDUs and then headed for John's temporary quarters to get what little else he had. Cam made a disapproving noise when he saw that John's entire civilian wardrobe consisted of the pair of jeans he had on, a sweater, a couple of t-shirts, and some workout clothes. John hadn't even bothered to really unpack, either, and Cam didn't seem too much happier when he realized that except for for the guitar John's personal belongings fit into a single travel bag.

"We're going to have to get you to the mall soon," Cam commented as they climbed into his truck. "You can borrow some of my stuff in the meantime."

John grimaced. The last time he had been in a real mall had been the better part of six years before, doing Christmas shopping before his deployment to Afghanistan. The last time he had been in a mall period had been two years ago with Teyla. He knew shopping with Cam would be a quick in-and-out affair, but John would gladly spend another four hours hauling her crap around if it meant she was _here_ instead of _there_.

"Probably a good idea, yeah," John said instead of any of that.

"I can spot you some money if you need it, too."

"Someone in Personnel got our credit cards and bank accounts and all that crap taken care of," John told Cam. "Between a few years of not spending anything and an absurd amount of flight and hazard bonuses, I've got more money than I know what to do with." He hesitated for just a moment, then added, "So I'll be good to split your bills, too, until I get a place of my own."

"No need to rush that, unless you want to," Cam said quietly.

"I can't exactly stay forever, you know. People might get the wrong idea." The SGC screened for people who were accepting of the weird and abnormal, but regs were regs and there was only so far you could push them under even the most lenient COs. Landry didn't exactly strike John as one of those.

"Nah, it's completely normal. There's plenty of single guys at the SGC who room together, especially on the teams. Trust me, it saves a lot of hassle when things go screwy and one of you gets trapped off-world or on-base for a month."

John nodded slowly. "Well, with a sales pitch like that, how could I resist?"

It took them another thirty minutes to reach Cam's place, which was twenty-nine minutes longer than John was used to spending on his commute. Cam had moved into a large loft apartment since John had last been on Earth. Much of it was taken up by a combination living room and kitchen, with tall windows lining much of the outside wall. John started to walk inside but a cough from Cam stopped him before he got more than a few feet.

"Shoes," Cam said, while untying his own and setting them on a rug near the door. John rolled his eyes and kicked his off as well.

"Nice place," John said as he looked around. There was a big flat-panel TV in one corner, with a pair of big couches and a recliner facing it, and at the other side of the room was a large dining table and what looked to be a well-equipped kitchen.

"Thanks," Cam said. He pointed across the room. "The bedrooms and bath are down that hall. Go get your stuff put away while I scrounge up something to eat."

John did as he was told and began unpacking his things in the immaculately tidy guest bedroom. His clothes barely filled one drawer in the dresser and his guitar case looked out of place sitting the corner, and so in the spirit of making the room look a little more lived-in he rumbled up the sheets on the bed and tossed his dirty socks on the floor. That done, he poked around the other rooms. Cam's bedroom wasn't much different than 'John's', except for the hand-made quilt covering the bed and a picture of a P-51 on the wall. The bathroom was unexpectedly large and next to the sink was a toothbrush holder with five different-colored brushes sitting in it; a quick check revealed they even had initials written on them in sharpie.

As he walked back out into the living room John passed a bookcase full of pictures. Most of them were of family - Cam's parents, his brother, various clusters of random relatives - but there were comrades there too, from SG-1 and the Snakeskinners clear back to the Academy. John caught his own face here and there, mostly in group shots but almost always at Cam's side; the only one where they were alone was from the first time Cam dragged John to the homestead, with the two of them arm in arm and looking impossibly young.

"Hope you don't mind stew!" Cam called from the kitchen. "It's a bitch trying to plan getting groceries around these longer missions, so I usually end up freezing some leftovers before I leave."

"Whatever you have works," John called back. He moved along to the next bookshelf, which held an odd mix of fiction, military history, and books with titles like "Idiot Flyboy's Guide to Phoenician Mythology". Then he thought about what he had just said and added, "As long as it's not blue, neon pink, or any other color not found in nature on Earth."

"That won't be a problem."

"No bugs, either. Or worms, rats or other rodents, or brains. Definitely no weird flying jellyfish things."

"Christ, you're a picky eater, aren't you?"

"No, just careful after a lot of bad experiences."

As it turned out, John had absolutely nothing to fear. Dinner was honest-to-God beef stew, with beef that came from a cow and carrots, potatoes, peas, and onions that were all the correct color and taste. It was a nice change from food served in the mess at home or the SGC. The cooks could work miracles with a mix of frozen and dehydrated food shipped on the _Daedalus_ and native foods, but it was nice to have something that tasted like real food but was made from identifiable ingredients. Cam seemed almost embarrassed when John praised it, saying that it wasn't anything special and wasn't even as good as it had been before sitting in his freezer for a week.

After eating they sat on the couch and watched a real live football game while drinking beer. Cam claimed exhaustion once it was done and said he was heading to bed. John didn't see much point in staying up longer and followed him back to the bedroom. They didn't fuck but John was fine with that. He wasn't sure he would have been up to it anyways, and it was nice to just lay in a real bed with Cam without having to worry about sneaking away in the morning.

"You want to talk about it?" Cam asked a few minutes after they got settled in.

"About what?" John replied.

"Leaving Atlantis. Anything else you've got on your chest."

"What's there to say? People get reassigned all the time. I'm even doing more or less the same job, just with less paperwork. It's fine."

Cam let out a huff in annoyance. "You expect me to believe that?"

"You expect me to say anything else?"

"It would do you good." Then Cam sighed and nestled a little closer against John. "But if you won't talk, you won't talk. I'll be here when you're ready."

John smiled for the first time in a week. Cam had been the only constant in John's life for a long time before Atlantis and it looked liked he would be for a long time after. "I know you will. You always have been."

"Who's the mushy one now?" Cam asked with a soft chuckle.

John elbowed him in the side. "Shut up."

The next few days blurred past. He had to sit through several meetings on the current strategic situation in Pegasus, because even the IOA wasn't stupid enough to completely abandon observation of the galaxy until they were sure the Wraith weren't about to waltz into Atlantis, gobble up all the Ancients while stealing their hyperdrive technology, and then head off to an all-you-can-eat buffet in the Milky Way. The brass seemed to be listening to what he had to say when it came to analysis of Wraith, Asuran, and Ancient capabilities and mindsets; any suggestions on what to do, on the other hand, were met with vague statements that added up to "thanks, but we'll come up with our own ideas".

John saw Elizabeth at a couple of the meetings, but he barely managed to say two words to her after them before gave him a fake smile and rushed off to what she claimed was other business. He imagined things had to suck even more for her than it did for him. John at least had a real job and someone to go home to at night. Atlantis had essentially become her entire life. She couldn't even go back to her old job, because Landry didn't show any signs of moving out of his office. John wished she would talk about it with someone, even John if no one else, rather than avoid contact with everyone.

He wouldn't say that around Cam, of course. It would just earn him a look and a pointed comment about pots and kettles or something.

Rodney, on the other hand, called John to let him know that he had arrived at Area 51 after a mandatory visit to Vancouver, gotten settled into his apartment and new lab, and found ample things to complain about. John's inbox quickly filled up with emails full of bullet points and exclamation marks, and he didn't even want to know what Cam's long-distance bill was going to look like. It wasn't all sunshine and puppy dogs - Rodney's ability to bitch was apparently directly proportional to his distance from John, and every conversation they had reminded John that Rodney wasn't just down the hall anymore and that Teyla and Ronon were even further gone - but he found himself calling and e-mailing Rodney constantly in what was probably a desperate attempt to hold on to one of the few things he still had left from Atlantis. John figured he could wean himself off Rodney once his new team was assembled and started going on missions.

That, as it turned out, was wildly optimistic.

"So, how's it going?" John said to Lieutenant Wallace as the two of them sat in a non-descript Level 24 conference room. They were supposed to be having a combination meet your team and pre-mission briefing, but thus far only the two of them had shown up.

Wallace seemed to shrink into his chair. "Fine, sir."

"That's good." John waited a minute, then asked, "So, how'd you end up at the SGC?"

"I was recommended by someone, sir."

"Cool." John tapped the table and checked his watch. "Got any hobbies?"

Wallace hesitated before saying, "Not really, sir," in a questioning tone, like he wasn't quite sure that was the correct answer. After a moment he cautiously added, "But I can find one if you want me to, sir."

John sighed. He was pretty sure he had never been like that at Wallace's age, although in retrospect he suspected some of his COs would have been much happier if he had been.

The door swung open while John was considering what sort of hobby he should order Wallace to take up, revealing another young man in BDUs. He looked remarkably similar to Wallace - which was to say he wouldn't be out of place at a high school - except he had a buzz cut and instead of eyebrows he only had a few singed hairs. He quickly came to attention.

"Corporal Milton reporting, SIR!"

"Afternoon, Corporal," John said. "Nice of you to join us."

"Sorry, sir! I was delayed in the infirmary, sir!"

"Don't worry about it. We're still waiting for Bambus anyways." When Wallace didn't move, John remembered to add, "At ease and find yourself a seat."

"Thank you, sir!" At ease turned out to be only slightly less ramrod-straight than attention. Just looking at Milton made John's back ache.

Bambus came running in only moments later, nearly tripping over his own feet as he did. "Is this room 22-C-68? Oh, thank God. I am so, so sorry about being late, Colonel Sheppard. Everything looks the same around here, it's like a maze. I was wandering around for fifteen minutes on Level 23 before I realized I wasn't even on the right floor."

John raised an eyebrow. "The big numbers on the wall didn't clue you in?"

"Well, yes, I noticed those eventually. And can I just say that I'm thrilled to be working with you, Colonel? Those of us in Botany have heard so much about you from Doctor Parrish and Doctor Brown. I feel a lot better about going off-world knowing that it'll be you leading us."

John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Um. Thanks?"

"He was in charge of Atlantis, you know," Bambus told the others as he sat down. Milton's expression didn't change, but Wallace somehow managed to seem even more intimidated than before. "He always brings his people home safe."

John wondered the fuck Parrish and Brown were telling people. Maybe they had gotten switched with alternate universe copies of themselves or something, because they sure as hell weren't talking about John.

"Anyways," John said before Bambus could say anything more. "Welcome to the new and improved SG-15. You were all selected because you were some of the best people in the current pool of off-world qualified personnel." He didn't mention that it was also because Landry wouldn't let him have Rodney, Stackhouse, Parrish, Big Hendricks, Little Hendricks, Gangadharan, or even, God help him, that moron Warrington. It wouldn't be cool or fair to his wonderful new team. "Apparently we're supposed to be some sort of second-line survey team focused mainly on all things plant-related. Don't worry if that doesn't sound exciting because survey teams discover cool things and run into trouble all the time. Besides, it's still going off-world. I'm sure you're all excited, right?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Milton all but shouted.

"I certainly am, sir," Wallace said, finally perking up like a puppy hearing the word treat.

Bambus nodded rapidly. "Definitely. I mean, while so many planets have Earth-based ecologies thanks to Ancient and Goa'uld seeding, the genetic variations we see are -"

"I thought so," John said. "Our first mission is tomorrow morning. We'll be visiting sunny P9X-667, an uninhabited world which apparently had something in the soil samples that made our friends in bioscience ask for a second team to go through. I think it'll be a nice chance to stretch our legs. I'll email you SG-2's mission report from their visit and I've got a summary to show you."

John thought the lights off and tapped the button on his laptop that was supposed to start up a Powerpoint presentation on the conference room's overhead projector. The lights failed to turn off and Windows chose that moment to crash.

"Or maybe not," John said with a shrug. "Eh, it wasn't important anyways. There's not really much to say else. You've all been through general orientation," John paused for a moment to let anyone who hadn't admit it, but apparently he was the only un-oriented one there, "so you pretty much know all the basics already. Don't insult any natives, don't touch the Ancient artifacts until you know what they do, don't awaken or attract the notice of slumbering evils from beyond the stars, that sort of thing. You really have to learn the rest from experience. Anyone have any questions?"

"Did you really fight off a dozen Wraith with only a nine-millimeter and a pointed stick?" Bambus asked.

John frowned. "No."

"I heard there were mind-reading spaceships." Wallace said. "Those sounded really cool."

"Yes, they were," John said, getting increasingly annoyed.

"Did you really get to build and detonate nuclear weapons?" Milton asked with a dreamy look on his face.

"Okay, new rule!" John snapped. "No talking about Atlantis or anything Atlantis-related unless I say otherwise." He felt bad for a moment when they all looked like he had just told them Santa wasn't real, but only for a moment. "Any other questions?"

The other three looked at each other, then Milton asked, "How much C-4 am I allowed to bring?"

John thought about that for a moment. "As much as the armory clerks will let you take. Don't try to sell it, though. Especially not to anyone who looks Amish. Next question?"

 

"I, uh," Wallace started. "Never mind."

John tried his best to look interested and approachable. "No, go ahead, say what's on your mind."

Wallace's ears turned red. "It's just that I've heard rumors, and I'm sure it's just people making up stuff so they can laugh at the new guys, but there's so many of them that I really can't tell whether they're joking. That is, people say that sometimes off-world teams run into plants or strange technology or alien rituals that make them... you know. Do things."

John's expression slipped from approachable to completely horrified as Wallace talked. "Anything you hear is a complete lie. Or at least an exaggeration. Yes, people have run into mind-altering technology, pollen, foods, radiation, and so forth that make them act weird, and yes, some alien rituals are really strange, but none of it has ever specifically made them... you know with each other. I think. Look, just don't worry about it. That's an order."

"Yes, sir."

"Anything else?" John asked in a half-manic voice that made it clear what the correct answer was. He didn't give them a chance to reply just to be safe. "Good. We dial out at 0930. Doctor Bambus, that means getting to the locker room by nine at the latest. Ask for directions if you need help. Dismissed."

John did not so much flee to his office as walk at the fastest pace he could manage while still maintaining the proper dignity and decorum of an officer of his rank.

The mission started out perfectly. Bambus managed to get ready on time and the weather was nice and sunny when they stepped through the wormhole. They gated home only forty minutes later, because apparently no one had ever found a way to fit a proper meteorology package on a MALP and for that reason his team was quite surprised when the thunderstorm arrived, complete with hail and gale-force winds. Lorne, who happened to be passing through the control room at the time, said John looked like a drowned rat. John promised to inflict some sort of dire revenge at some later point once he was dry.

"How's the team working out?" Cam asked that evening, with an amused look that implied he had talked to Lorne at some point and possibly even seen security footage from the gateroom. John mentally added him to the List of Revenge.

"They're... young. Enthusiastic, too," John told him. "They're nice kids. I just need to find some way to get us all to bond properly."

The problem was that John had never been terribly good at the bonding thing, especially not with people half his age who he technically wasn't supposed to bond with. Getting them all drunk, for example, was probably unprofessional in ways that even John usually avoided. He was pretty sure that he couldn't just toss Bambus off a balcony, either, and getting trapped in a jumper with a bug around his neck was also out.

"You have any suggestions?" John asked.

Cam shrugged. "Not really. My team came pre-assembled, so I was just trying to fit in. In the beginning I mostly just nodded while Sam and Daniel babbled and let Teal'c beat me up. It seemed to work out okay."

"Huh." John shrugged. "Maybe we need a team night or something."

"That works," Cam agreed. "Or there's always mortal peril. I'm sure that'll come up soon enough."

John stared at Cam and wondered if he would still get laid that night if he punched him. "Are you trying to get me killed?"

"Don't tell me you're superstitious, John," Cam said with a shit-eating grin. "'Sides, trouble's inevitable when you go through the gate."

"Fuck you, Mitchell."

John half expected to run into a Prior, former System Lord, or something more mundane like a gigantic man-eating plant the next time he went off-world, but instead his team got through several missions completely unharmed. The worst that happened was Bambus nearly pissing himself in joy when they found some sort of proto-apple tree. The universe was just lulling him into a relaxing, though, because on M2X-418 they ended up treed by a bunch of gigantic wolves that SG-4 had somehow failed to notice during their initial survey of the planet.

"Does this sort of thing happen often?" Bambus asked from the next branch over.

"Well, the wolves are new, but other than that, it's pretty normal," John admitted. He looked away from the slavering beasts - one of which had taken to gnawing on John's dropped P-90 - to glance upwards. "Corporal! Stop fiddling with that C-4!"

"But sir," Milton whined while stroking a block of it in a completely inappropriate manner. "I could take them all out right now."

"Yeah, and either knock the tree down or fry us all in the process. Seriously, cut it out." John peered down again. "Once we miss our check-in the SGC will send a rescue team, and hopefully none of _them_ will lose their weapons."

"Yes, sir," Milton muttered.

"So. Prime Not-Prime, anyone?" John asked.

There was a moment of silence, or as close to silence as you could get when surrounded by growling wolves, before Wallace said, "What?"

John sighed. "Never mind. Um... I spy with my little eye something beginning with the letter 'T'."

"Tree, sir?"

They spent the next two hours idly chatting and joking with each other, because as usual Cam was right: mortal peril did wonders to help loosen you up. Even Wallace managed to forget that John was a lieutenant colonel and relax a little. The conversation meandered from topic to topic, guns to explosives to explosive plants, and as often happened with four guys with nothing better to do (besides avoid being eaten) it happened to pass through relationships after Bambus mentioned coming up with increasingly absurd explanations what he did for the military to tell his wife.

"How about you, Colonel?" Bambus said. "Ever been married?"

"Nope. There was a near miss, about eight... fuck, no, ten years ago, but nothing came of it," John replied. It had been one last insane burst of filial piety, back when John and his father could still talk in person rather than just write awkward e-mails, but all a few dates had proven was that John wanted something else entirely. John chuckled to himself. "I'd say more, but a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell. Remember that, Wallace."

"Yes, sir," Wallace dutifully said.

Finally, a little more than an hour after they had been forced into the tree, John's radio clicked. "Sierra Golf One-Five Niner, this is Sierra Golf One Niner. Come in, please."

"Sierra Golf One Niner, Sierra Golf One-Five Niner," John said. "It's about time you showed up, Mitchell."

"We can always head back home if all you want to do is complain. What's your situation?"

"We're in a tree about half a mile south-east of the gate, surrounded by a bunch of dire wolves, and could use some assistance."

"Did you say tree, Sheppard?"

"Just shut up and get over here."

When SG-1 and SG-3 showed up fifteen minutes later, they managed to take down most of the wolf pack and scare off the rest without too much trouble. John was confident that was because they had the element of surprise and almost three times as many people as his team, rather than being a sad commentary on his own team's abilities.

Cam appeared underneath the tree. "Howdy! You folks having fun up there?"

"About as much as you'd expect," John said.

"You know, I'm always amazed when people manage to find some new way to screw up that we haven't done," Jackson said at Cam's side.

"There were those monkeys that chased us off 667," Carter said from somewhere out of sight.

"Yeah, but that time they were in the trees, not us."

John groaned. "Just toss us some rope."

John and his team managed to climb down out of the tree without any problems, while around them the SG-3 marines kept watch and quietly made jokes about scared kitties. Of course, John didn't manage to get three feet before he slipped on something kidney-shaped and went down flailing. He landed face-first in pile of wolf guts.

"Ow," he said. "Typical."

"You okay?" Cam asked. Under other circumstances John might have been worried about Cam sounding so earnest and concerned about his well-being in public, but he was pretty sure that by now everyone on SG-1 and SG-3 knew that was how Cam was with just about everyone.

"Yeah, I'm fine," John said, climbing to his feet and hoping to maintain some small measure of dignity in doing so. "Let's just get the hell out of here before more of those damned things show up."

They returned to the SGC without further incident. Landry seemed amused that his team had been ambushed and nearly eaten by twenty-some wolves of unusual size, but at least he didn't yell at them, and John managed to say 'good job' to his team with a straight face.

Almost getting devoured apparently earned John cherry pie and ice cream, which he figured was a pretty good deal. He sitting at the kitchen table waiting for his reward to finish baking when the phone rang. John groaned, swallowed, and grabbed the kitchen phone.

"Sheppard and Mitchell residence, this is John speaking, how may I direct your call?"

"You stupid idiot!" Rodney shouted, nearly deafening John. "What the fuck did you think you were doing?"

John held the phone a few inches away from his ear. "My job?"

"Your job? **Your job?**" Rodney repeated in what might charitably called a screech. "What part of your job involves being eaten?"

"Um. You have been paying attention for the last two years, right? Almost being eaten was pretty much a a weekly occurrence for us."

"By Wraith, not by gigantic puppy dogs! I - you - this is just - can't you go anywhere without me and not get into trouble?"

John smiled to himself and ducked his head. "Apparently not, Rodney."

Rodney sighed and in his head John could imagine him deflating out of angry mode. Usually that was a prelude to an escalation to super-angry mode. "Put Mitchell on the line, would you?" he asked in an exceptionally calm tone.

"Sure thing." John put the phone down. "Hey, Cam! It's for you."

Cam stuck his head out of the laundry room. "Who is it?"

"Your mom," John said, knowing full well he was going to be paying for this for months.

"Oh." Cam ambled over and picked up the phone. "Hey Momma, how's it going?"

There was a beat of silence then John could hear Rodney screaming even from a few feet away. Cam's face went from shocked to dismayed to annoyed in the space of a second. John started to crack up.

"Nice to talk to you to, Doctor McKay," Cam said as he sat down across from John, flipping him off as he did. "Yeah, I'm aware of what happened. Yes, they were very large and slavering, although I can't see why they'd want to eat something as stringy as Sheppard. Yes, he does have a very bony ass."

"Do not," John muttered. Cam made a face at him.

"I fully understand your concern, Doctor. He obviously can't be allowed to go anywhere without adult supervision. No, his team definitely doesn't count. Mmm-hmm. Mmm-hmm. Right, robot with emasculation ray. I'll make sure to pass that on to his team. Glad you trust me to take care of this. Oh, you'll be calling Sam too? Well, I'm sure between the two of us we can manage something. You have a nice night."

Cam handed the phone back to John, who asked Rodney, "What was that all about?"

"Just making sure someone's taking care of you, since you obviously can't be trusted alone," Rodney said. His voice softened a little. "Look, seriously, try to be careful. It's bad enough that you're going off-world with a bunch of incompetent children instead of Ronon and Teyla, I don't need you being reckless and adding even more things for me to worry about. I don't know what I'd do if you went and got yourself killed."

"Rodney," John said slowly, "Did you just admit that you... care about me?"

"What? No!" Rodney squawked. "I did no such thing!"

"You did!"

"I'm just saying that you're a good friend and that it would be extraordinarily inconvenient to replace you at this late date. I'd have to, to, genetically combine Radek and Lorne or something to get the same effect."

"Whatever you say, Rodney. I care very deeply about you, too, in a completely platonic way."

"Oh, go screw yourself," Rodney said. He hung up.

John sat back with a stupid grin on his face and found Cam looking at him speculatively. "What?"

A smile spread across Cam's face. "You just admitted you have _feelings_."

"I did not," John said quickly. "I was just jerking his chain a bit."

"Sure you were, John. You just keep telling yourself that." Cam reached across the table to pat John's shoulder. "Don't worry. It happens to lots of people from time to time. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Okay, maybe there was a little truth to it," John grudgingly allowed. "Only a little, though."

"You miss him, don't you?" Cam asked, quiet and earnest with the slightest trace of worry underlying his words.

"Yeah," John found himself saying. He looked away from Cam and stared out the windows. "I miss him, and I miss Teyla and Ronon and everyone else, and I miss the city. There's nothing I can do about it, though, and at least I've got you." He looked at Cam again. "I don't know what I'd do if I didn't."

"You'd be fine, John."

John shook his head. "No, I really don't think I would."

Cam grinned. "Yes, you would. You're a lot stronger than you think."

"No, I wouldn't," John said, eyes narrowing in annoyance. "I would be completely lost without you to anchor me, all alone in the world in the world and unloved."

Cam snickered. "Now you are just being melodramatic."

"It's a real dick move to tell a man he needs to express his feelings and then make fun of him when he does, Mitchell." John stood up. "And if you don't wipe that smirk off your face, I'll do it for you."

Cam stood and walked around the table, until he was standing with his face just inches from John's. His smirk was, if anything, even bigger than before. "I'd like to see you try," he murmured.

"I think I will," John growled, and he started to lean in to kiss Cam.

The oven beeped and they looked over at it.

John added, "Right after I finish my pie."

Cam didn't seem too thrilled with that idea, so they worked out a compromise. First Cam took the pie out of the oven so it wouldn't be burnt to a crisp, then he bent John over the table and fucked him so hard that John was later surprised they didn't break it. It wasn't quite how John had planned to remove the smirk, but in the end he was quite satisfied none the less.

And so things went. It took John a while to start readjusting to his new life. Work was hit-or-miss. John unexpectedly found that he had actually kinda liked being the one in charge, despite all the extra work it meant. His team showed some potential, although it was mostly potential for having gruesome and horribly embarrassing deaths. The SGC wasn't too bad, even if it was always too hot or too cold, the lights were too harsh, and it was buried a million miles underground. It was far better than some bases he had been at and he at least got to leave at the end of the day.

Living with Cam took getting used to as well. It was nice, and John wouldn't have given it up for almost anything, but it didn't mean there weren't occasional road bumps. John discovered that, despite Cam's tendency to write novella-length emails, he had somehow glossed over just how much danger SG-1 routinely got itself into, the end result of which was Cam nearly giving John a heart attack on three occasions by the end of his second week back. He had forgotten how tidy Cam could be since the last time they had roomed together, which lead to cold war over the placement of dirty clothing that eventually lead to a brief shouting match, which in turn lead to hot, rough make-up sex on the floor, which lead to John getting hard-to-explain rug burn on his back.

There was also Cam's deeply ingrained delight in having guests over. He had inherited his mother's natural hospitality and loved to show off his cooking; John, on the other hand, had always guarded the privacy of his quarters even more than most servicemen, only letting a chosen few do more that visit briefly. It had come as a shock when John had returned from a mission at two in the morning to discover Sam Carter and Daniel Jackson snoring in 'his' bed after having a little too much to drink at SG-1's regular team night. He rolled with it, though, because it was Cam's apartment in the first place.

John pretended not to notice that Cam seemed to have started hosting all the team nights, despite the fact that it had been a rotating thing before. Cam had made clear his views about how John needed to get out more, do something other work or sit at his computer chatting with Rodney, and in general hang out with people. John hadn't really agreed at first, but as time started to pass and he found himself settling in he admitted that maybe becoming a quasi-hermit was a bad idea. His attempt at a team night of his own was a reasonable success, right up until Bambus tripped and fell onto the Playstation while doing a victory dance. After a couple weeks, John even agreed when Cam suggested dinner with some friends.

"Evening, sir," Lorne said to John when he arrived with Parrish in tow. The botanist looked a little awkward and out of place, like he wasn't quite sure what he was doing here. John knew Lorne had explained what was up between him, John, and Cam, but he also knew that Parrish had been forced to train himself to be discrete and that it was probably just as hard for him to let his guard down as it was for the rest of them.

"We're off duty, Lorne. Drop the sir," John said.

"Yes, sir, sorry, sir," Lorne replied while giving John a cheeky grin.

John shook his head and flashed Parrish a welcoming smile. "Nice to see you again, Doctor Parrish."

The lanky scientist nodded. "It's nice to see you too, sir. Colonel. Ah?"

"Just call me John."

"David."

The two of them stood there watching each other for a few moments, John rocking back and forth on his heels and Parrish nervously rubbing his hands together. They were passing friends thanks to Lorne, but that hadn't meant they had spent a lot of time together outside professional settings. John didn't have a clue what you said to a botanist to make small talk, and Parrish seemed as befuddled by the situation as John was.

"Honestly," Lorne muttered when neither of them said anything more. He waved for Parrish to follow him and walked further inside the apartment while calling, "Mitchell! Tell me there's food!"

There was food, some sort of fancy-assed noodly thing with a French name that John couldn't remember. It tasted delicious, which was what mattered to him and Lorne. Parrish, on the other hand, was apparently as weird about cooking as Cam was and quickly started up a conversation about spices and herbs and vegetables that went straight over John's head. It worked as an icebreaker and got Parrish to relax a little, so John and Lorne just shrugged and made faces at each other while he and Cam talked shop.

After they finished eating they made their way to the living room and settled in on the couches, John and Cam plopping down on one and Lorne and Parrish somehow managing to lay down together on the other. It took John a moment to remember that this time having company didn't mean he had to sit a regulation six inches or more from Cam, not that it had ever fooled anyone on SG-1 for a moment. He scooted over and leaned against Cam's warm bulk. It wasn't anything unusual for him to do, but it was nice to do it around someone else for once.

Thanks to the mention of SG-1's latest adventure, which had involved man-eating plants, the conversation started to turn away from paprika and peas and towards what was happening at Stargate Command. It wasn't gossip, John told himself, just catching up with friends.

"I hear you landed SG-22," Cam said to Lorne with a mischievous smile on his face. "Having fun yet?"

Lorne gave Cam a pointed look, although the ends of his mouth quirked upwards. "Oh, yeah, Mitchell. Barrels of monkeys."

"What's wrong with SG-22?" John asked. He frowned and tried to remember if he had heard about them getting in trouble, but came up blank. It wasn't too surprising, because Lorne didn't get into trouble nearly as often as John did, but when he did it tended to be fairly spectacular.

"There's nothing wrong with SG-22," Lorne said in exasperated tone that made it clear he had said that sentence dozens of times recently.

"I seem to recall quite a few conversations with you that implied the contrary," Parrish said.

"Shush, you."

"SG-22 has something of a reputation," Cam explained to John. "They're a technical follow-up team, composed entirely of civilians. They went through four COs in their first week together, and Landry's got orders from on high to keep them together."

"They're not as bad as people think," Lorne said. "They're a good group, just... odd. And so young that I feel like I'm an old geezer."

"Tell me about it," John groaned. "Sometimes I feel like I'm leading a boyscout troop. Wallace practically worships the ground I walk on. It's scary."

"No, John, scary is that Doctor Bambus seems to have a gigantic man-crush on you," Parrish said. "He's terribly confused by it, but can't stop talking to me and Katie about you."

"Oh, Christ," John said. He buried his face in his hands. "The last thing I need is him getting a divorce and trying to reenact your five-minute botanical courtship in reverse."

Cam blinked. "What now?"

"They used to be on a team together, but they only made it through one mission before Lorne up and decided he had found his one true love or something." John snorted and rolled his eyes. Lorne flipped him off. "In fact, they didn't even manage to complete the mission before it got cut short. David here tripped over a dead Wraith."

Parrish nodded. "It was a bit startling. Not to mention disappointing - I never did manage to get back and complete my survey of the plant life."

"It gets a bit complicated from there, but Parrish was sent home while my team joined Lorne's to search the planet for a missing man," John went on, skipping straight over the old scar of that particular screwup. "Lorne got himself stunned, of course."

"Rodney got me stunned, you mean," Lorne grumbled with a good-natured smile.

"That's not how he says it happened, but sure, that's probably the case," John agreed. "Anyways, he wakes up, we get through our infirmary check-up, and he immediately gives me some bullshit about how he was concerned about how Parrish was reacting to what had happened and that as his team leader he should really check up on him, so would I mind terribly if we delayed the debrief a bit?"

"Wait, wait, wait," Cam said. "Let me get this straight. You were so worried that he was, what? Horribly traumatized by his encounter with an already-dead Wraith? That you felt compelled to visit him as soon as you got back to Atlantis yourself to check on him."

"I didn't think he was traumatized," Lorne said. "I just thought that it might be major shock to someone who had never been exposed to that sort of thing. It was a perfectly normal thing to do for a team mate."

"I thought it was rather charming," Parrish commented. "Especially since he'd been shot only a couple hours earlier."

"You should have seen Lorne," John said with a chuckle. "He followed Parrish around like a puppy for a week, met him for dinner every night, the works. Then he turned up in my office and just stood there, staring at his feet and stammering so quietly I could barely hear him."

"That's a complete exaggeration," Lorne interjected.

"Yeah, whatever. He was like, 'Colonel Sheppard, I need a new scientist even though I think my current one is wonderful, due to the fact that I think he's so wonderful I seem to have accidentally fallen into his bed and spent the night making sweet, sweet love.' It was cute."

"Actually, John," Parrish said, "I think the appropriate phrase I've heard the military use wouldn't be 'making love' but 'being ridden hard and put away wet.' I could be misusing it, of course."

John stared at Parrish while Lorne and Cam cracked up. He should have known the man wasn't the innocent scientist he appeared. Hell, the term 'innocent scientist' was an oxymoron.

"I didn't say that, but I should have just to see his face," Lorne wheezed.

"I really don't need to know that sort of thing," John groused.

"Really?" Parrish said with an earnest smile. "I thought this was the sort of thing military men did, sit around and boast about their conquests. I'm just trying to fit in."

"I don't know where you got that idea, but it's wrong," John said, with a glare directed at Lorne.

Lorne spread his hands and said, "It wasn't me. I'm a perfect gentleman."

"It was from listening to Sergeant Novonty, mostly," Parrish said.

"Novotny's Russian, you shouldn't use him as a role model for anything but drinking," John said.

"And Sergeant Warrington, for that matter," Parrish went on.

"Warrington's an idiot."

"Lieutenant Kagan never seemed to stop talking about Lieutenant Nygaard."

"He's a lieutenant. They're automatically double-idiots."

"Lieutenant Cadman and Sergeant Mehra compared notes a lot, and pretty loudly at that."

"Cadman's touched in the head, and Mehra is a bad influence on everyone."

Cam chuckled, a deep rumble against John's side. "You don't have a very high opinion of your troops, do you, John?"

"I think they're they best damned men and women in two galaxies," John growled, hackles up for a moment even knowing it was meant as a joke. "They're just all insane."

"And a bit slutty, from the sound of things," Cam said with another chuckle.

It was John's turn to laugh. "They really were, but the scientists were worse. Look, when you stick three hundred healthy men and women in close quarters, almost half of them marines, and isolate them in high-stress environment with nowhere else to go to let off some steam, they're bound to have a little bit of sex."

"Or a lot," Lorne added with a huge grin. "There were quite a few couples, but honestly, it's a wonder some alien STD didn't wipe out half the expedition."

"God, yes," John groaned. "I was always afraid that one day Hernandez was going to set off the city's quarantine protocols. Can you imagine what Elizabeth's reaction would have been?"

"It couldn't possibly be worse than when she found out about greenhouse two," Parrish said.

Lorne shook his head and gave Parrish a playful nudge. "You brought that on yourselves, hoarding valuable medical and recreational supplies like that."

"Wait, what?" Cam sputtered. "You can't mean what I think you mean."

"It technically wasn't marijuana, since it was from an entirely different galaxy," Parrish muttered. "And we would have shared with Medical if they had asked."

"What did I tell you?" John asked Cam. "We're all crazy, even the civilians. Especially the civilians."

"Sounds like my kind of people," Cam said.

"You would love it." John paused and his smile slipped from his face. "Would have, anyways."

It was like the temperature in the room had dropped twenty degrees the instant John said it. Lorne and Parrish both shifted awkwardly and looked away from him, while Cam tensed up at his side. John cursed himself silently for saying it aloud, even knowing that someone would have put their foot in their mouth at some point in the evening. It was no surprise that it was him that did it. He had avoided talking about Atlantis for the better part of three weeks and tried his best not to think about it, although that had failed miserably. John justified it by telling himself it was stupid and pointless to dwell on something he couldn't change; the truth was that just just didn't want to keep reminding himself that he had lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Then John felt Cam put his arm around him, a warm and reassuring reminder that even if he had lost Atlantis he had still gained something else. Movement across the room as Parrish snuggled a little closer to Lorne reminded John that he wasn't the only one who'd lost something, either. John had a gaping hole where Atlantis should have been and another from his team, but at least he still had a solid foundation to rebuild his life from. Maybe, as much as John disliked the idea, it would even do them all some good to actually talk about it. It wouldn't change what had happened, but it might ease the pain, just a little.

"You want to talk about crazy," Lorne said finally, a soft smile returning to his face, "let me tell you about the time my illustrious CO got himself turned into a bug."

Also, John thought as he threw a pillow at Lorne, there was a bright side to exile: he didn't have to put up with his XO anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

If someone had told Cam twenty years ago that instead of flying planes he would be slogging around in swamps trying not to get eaten by over-sized mosquitoes, he would have laughed in their face. There he was, though, freshly returned from five hours running around Dagobah as part of a quest to find the Holy Grail. He had spent a good half-hour scrubbing in the shower after getting back and he still didn't feel clean. The fact that it had been _alien_ mud had stopped being entertaining about ten minutes into the mission, and the only consolation was that Daniel had come back even more slimy and disgusting than Cam had.

He arrived home to the sound of snores and a quick peek over the back of his couch revealed that John was curled there and sound asleep. He looked remarkably young and peaceful, in a way that he rarely had since coming back to Earth. Cam supposed that he should probably just leave him be. Instead he reached down and flicked John's ear. That made John grumble and shift uneasily; the second earned Cam a half-hearted attempted swat. Cam grinned and flicked him a third time.

"Gah!" John shouted, bolting upright, snatching Cam's wrist, and pulling hard all in one lightning-switch movement. Cam was nearly tugged over the top of the couch, only to overbalance and fall flat on his ass when John let go a moment later.

"Ow," Cam said from the floor.

John poked his head over the top and glared at him. "Is it too much for me to ask to nap in peace?"

"It was either that or smother you," Cam said. He climbed to his feet and rubbed his sore rear. "I couldn't hear myself think over the noise."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch." John yawned and stretched. "Aren't you supposed to be on P9X-Whatever-the-hell?"

"If there's anything on that planet, it's buried under a million tons of mud," Cam answered. "Jackson fell into this pool of sludge and came out completely soaked. The stench was amazing, I think it about knocked out the SFs in the gateroom when we came back. I called the mission at that point."

John smiled. "It's nice to know that even the mighty SG-1's not immune to the occasional accident."

"At least none of us have 'accidentally' seduced a dowager empress," Cam replied, adding a moment later, "Well, not while I've been in charge at any rate."

"Fuck you."

Cam plopped down on the couch next to John and leaned against him. "Maybe later. What do you want for dinner?"

"Actually, Rodney's flying in and we've managed to convince Elizabeth to go out to eat with us," John answered. He had the good grace to look a bit sheepish when Cam elbowed him in the side.

"And you didn't ask them over here because...?"

"You weren't going to be here!" John protested.

Cam supposed that might almost count as an excuse, because fifteen years of eating in mess halls had atrophied whatever cooking skills John had ever had to the point that anything much beyond "throw ingredients together in container, heat for X minutes, remove" was asking for trouble. The man would probably eat nothing but turkey sandwiches and frozen pizza if left to his own devices.

"What time are you supposed to meet them?" Cam asked.

"Seven-thirty, at a place called... um."

Cam sighed and got to his feet. "There's plenty of time to fix something nice up, then. Call them and tell them there's a change in plans." As he headed for the kitchen to see what he had already and what he'd need to send John out for, another thought occurred to him. "Then get some fresh sheets and blankets out for the spare bedroom. There's no point in McKay spending money on a hotel when we've got the space."

"I -"

"Anyone have any special dietary needs? Vegetarian or anything like that? Besides no citrus."

"Not that I know of, no. I'll ask." They reached the kitchen and John leaned against the fridge. "You really don't need to do anything, you know."

"Sure I do," Cam said as he dug into his cabinets. "They're your friends, why wouldn't I?"

 

"Because Rodney can be a pain in the ass and will probably spend a few hours bitching about the time you tried to kill him."

Cam pointed box of spaghetti at John. "I'll just remind him that it was your idea and I was a completely innocent party in the matter. Besides, he's practically family anyways, which makes it okay."

"I'm not sure he'd see it that way, and I don't think he'd be too thrilled at finding out he's been summarily adopted."

"He's your best friend, which is close enough to family for Mitchell purposes." Cam grinned. "Maybe we should drag him home for Thanksgiving. If nothing else, it would interesting to watch."

"Interesting in the same way that watching a nuke go off is interesting."

John might possibly have had a point about that. On the one hand, McKay's loud and self-assured personality would fit right it with the rest of the family. On the other, he could be difficult to get along with even if you knew he wasn't talking out his ass when he said he was the smartest man in two galaxies. Add in a bit of derision for American holidays and 'hillbillies' and the results could potentially be explosive. Of course, that was half the fun of bringing people home, and if nothing else Cam knew McKay wouldn't try to run away screaming after a few hours trapped in the house with a bunch of people who didn't quite meet the usual definitions of normal or sane.

"Is that supposed to be a good or bad comparison?" Cam asked. "Last I heard, you seem to like setting those off."

"That's an exaggeration," John said, "and the way Carter tells it, you all but creamed your pants when you got a chance to use a Mark Nine."

Cam grinned and shrugged. "What can I say? I've always liked fireworks."

"We'll see if you feel the same way after you have to spend an evening around Rodney."

Cam considered his options for a minute, then carefully said, "Actually, speaking of spending time with McKay, I might have some good news. I didn't want to get your hopes up, but I've been talking with Sam, and she's been talking with General Landry, and she thinks she's managed to convince him that she could use his help at the SGC." Before John could say anything, Cam quickly held up his hand and added, "That doesn't mean he's necessarily going to be cleared to join an off-world team anytime soon."

John gaped at him with a completely thunderstruck expression. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to say, "Wow," and "Um," and "I think I'm going to hug you now." John reached out, grabbed Cam by the arm, and yanked him over into a bone-crushing embrace that would put a python to shame. Cam would have hugged back if he could have gotten an arm free; as it was he let John keep at it until the need to breathe forced him to prod John into releasing him.

"I, uh. Thanks," John said after a moment. He had a million-watt smile on his face that was worth whatever Sam might demand in exchange for the huge favor she had done Cam. John ducked his head down and pressed his forehead against Cam's. "Seriously. I owe you for this."

"You don't owe me nothin', John," Cam murmured in reply.

"I do."

"Do not."

"Do to," John said, starting to chuckle.

"Do not," Cam said, beginning to as well.

"Do to."

Cam laughed and shoved John away. "Fine. You can start paying me back by running down to the store and getting me some chicken, a head of lettuce, potatoes... actually, let me write you up a list. Otherwise you'll end up bringing home whatever random crap catches your eye."

"I'll have you know I have very good taste in crap," John said. Cam rolled his eyes.

"Go call your friends and tell them what's up. I'll have the list for you in a minute."

John made his calls and headed out with Cam's list of demands. On such short notice Cam couldn't manage anything too fancy, but if the rest of the former Atlanteans shared John's warped tastes they probably wouldn't want fancy anyways. Chicken, salad, maybe cheesy potatoes, pie - lots of pie, because if there was one thing Cam had noticed over the last six weeks it was that John, and for that matter Lorne and Parrish, would eat any desert you sat in front of them even if they were about to burst at the seems.

John came back with the groceries but didn't stay much longer than it took to get the guest room in order, as he had to head out for the airport. John returned an hour later with McKay in tow. Cam could easily hear them talking as they came up the stairs. Cam opened the door for them and John stepped in first, carrying a pair of heavy travel bags and wearing a happy but pained expression that Cam usually associated with statements like, "Well, the alien fungus may have eaten all your body hair, but it's otherwise harmless."

"I'm warning you now," McKay said without so much as a hello, "that I will not put up with any sort of harassment from you and that oh my God what is that smell?"

"That would be the cobblers," Cam told him. "One peach and one apple, just in case anyone was a bit picky."

"Hmmm. I prefer cherry, but I suppose those will do. Where's your restroom? You'd think with a security clearance higher than God I could just breeze past TSA's little gestapo checkpoints, but no, I still had to wait hours to get on my plane. I won't even get into how sad it is that I've seen more sanitary conditions in medieval villages than airport restrooms...."

McKay's voice trailed off as he wandered through the living room and down the hall. Still at the door, John dropped the bags he was carrying and bent down to take off his shoes, while saying, "It's still not too late to send him to a hotel."

Cam grinned. "Where would the fun in that be? I like a challenge."

John chuckled. "I guess that explains why you've put up with me for so long."

"No, that I usually blame on that time Ash clonked me in the head with a baseball. Go set the table before McKay gets back."

John barely managed to get that done before McKay emerged again, talking a mile a minute as he complained about the inadequacies of the American air transport system, cast aspersions on the smallness of Cam's extra-large shower and bath tub, and demanded immediate access to the wireless network. John grinned at him and said something about spaceships, bubble baths, and how sad it was Rodney couldn't hack in himself. From there the conversation stopped making any sense, at least to Cam, because it was full of barely-coherent sentences with accompanying hand-flails, eyebrow movements, and enough subtext to sink a ship. Cam tuned it out and went to check on the chicken.

There was a knock on the door just as Cam finished setting out the salads. John and McKay were apparently too busy fighting for control of the Wii to be polite and so it fell to Cam to answer it. He found Doctor Weir and a man he presumed to be Doctor Beckett on the other side. Weir he had met twice before, once in Atlantis and once while he was still laying in a hospital bed; Beckett he knew only by reputation.

"Evening," Cam said, waving them in. "Come on in, you've got perfect timing."

"Thank you, Colonel," Weir said. "It's good to see you again."

"You too, ma'am." Cam shook Beckett's hand. "Nice to meet you, Doctor."

"The pleasure's all mine, Colonel," Beckett replied with a thick Scottish accent.

"Call me Cam."

Dinner went over well with everyone, even McKay. For the most part Cam just sat back and watched the other four caught up with each other. It was his apartment and his food, but it wasn't his reunion and he didn't want to intrude. It was almost like being a kid again, sitting in the kitchen at family dinners and listening as the women joked and gossiped - certainly John and McKay bickered as much as his Gran'ma and great-aunts ever had. Cam found himself watching Weir in particular. She looked unhealthy, like she hadn't been eating or sleeping well for months, and Cam guessed that was the case. As the night went on she started to get a little more color to her face and grew a little more lively, but he still decided he needed to prod Daniel into finding some time to visit her and talk about intergalactic diplomacy or something.

Then, just as they were about to start on desert, everyone's phones began ringing and their evening went to hell. Cam went with them as they headed to the mountain, figuring that any unspecified emergency that called in the former Atlantis command staff had a good chance of turning into the kind of emergency where people started shouting about the end of the world and SG-1 had to take care it.

It wasn't quite the end of the world, but from the look on John's face as Landry told them Atlantis had fallen to the replicators you would think it was worse.

"Luckily, the _Daedalus_ was already en-route to Atlantis to pick up the remainder of our equipment and monitor the situation," Landry informed them as they sat around the conference table. "It'll arrive in two days. What I need from you is how they can get a nuke past the shield."

They all stared at Landry in shock. Somehow Beckett was the first to recover, asking, "How do you expect me to answer that?"

"I don't, which is why I didn't call _you_, Doctor," Landry replied. He shot Cam a look too, although it was less exasperated and more 'at least you're useful'.

"You can't be seriously considering destroying the city!" Weir protested. Any trace of her prior melancholy was gone, replaced with a steely look in her eyes that started to give Cam an idea of why President Hayes had chosen her to head up the SGC and Atlantis.

Landry shook his head. "It's the gateway to Earth, and thanks to Doctor McKay's gate bridge they could reach us or anywhere else in this galaxy from it."

"Please, it's completely secure," McKay snapped. "There's no way they could hack into it."

"They're robots who have already reprogrammed their own base code, I dare say it's possible they could reprogram the bridge as well. That's without even mentioning they can dial in directly with the city's ZPM."

John leaned forward. "Sir, I think this is premature. General O'Neill and Mr. Woolsey could still be alive. Give me thirty men armed with Colonel Carter's new..."

He looked at McKay, who supplied, "Anti-replicator guns."

"Yeah, those, and I can get them out. Fifty and I can take the city back completely."

Landry's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "You expect me to send thirty or fifty men on what's probably a one-way mission to rescue two men and a city we've already abandoned?"

"I can guarantee that I can get at least that many volunteers," John said. He had a hard edge in his voice that said he wasn't going to back down, one that Cam knew could only be a bad sign when dealing with Landry once he set his mind on something.

"It's out of the question!" Landry replied. "General O'Neill is the one who gave me these orders in the first place, and they will be carried out."

"General Landry's right," Cam said quietly. "There's no guarantee they're alive, and for all we know the Asurans could have an entire division in the city by now. It seems to me that the best option is to find a way to bypass the shield that lets the _Daedalus_ pick the general up if he's still there."

John clenched his jaw tight and he shot Cam a hurt and betrayed look. It only lasted for a second before being replaced by a more considering one that said John knew Cam must have had some kind of plan. Cam did have an idea, although even by SG-1 standards it couldn't be called a plan. Step one was lulling Landry into a sense of security and smug satisfaction. That even being a part of the plan told Cam just how messed up it all was, but he didn't care.

General Landry had once asked Cam what his kryptonite was, thinking he was too perfect to be real. The answer was John Sheppard.

"Okay, then," John said with nod. "I guess if that's the only choice, it's the only choice. Rodney?"

"But!" McKay said. John cut him off with a small shake of his head before he could get farther. McKay gaped at him wide-eyed for a few moments longer before crossing his arms with a disgusted snort. "Fine. Obviously a direct attack is out. With a full war load the _Daedalus_ carries enough Mark Sevens to melt half of North America, but even with just the ZPM the Ancients brought the shield won't even be scratched."

"I'm aware of that, Doctor," Landry said, relaxing a bit, "which is why we need your help."

"Yes, well, the transporter seems like our best bet. The shield was adjusted to allow Asgard-based beams to pass through and it's likely the Asuran don't know that yet."

Weir, who had been studying John since he gave in, said, "And if we can beam in, then it should be possible to beam out any human lifesigns present."

"Exactly," McKay said with a nod. "They'll realize what's happened the instant the first transport occurs and it would only take a few seconds to reset the shield, but Hermiod's got a couple days to program the transporter to do it all automatically. The ship drops out of hyperspace, transports our people out, and beams the nukes down before they can fix the vulnerability."

"A single warhead to stargate operations or the power room would be enough to destroy the city, certainly enough to make it useless as a launching point for an attack on us," John said.

Landry smiled broadly. "That's more like it. Work out an optimal deployment pattern for any additional warheads and I'll pass it on to the _Daedalus_. I'm sorry it has to come to this, but I'm sure you understand we can't take any risks here."

"Absolutely, sir," John said, eyes locked on Cam.

It took less than fifteen minutes to come up with a plan, since most of the actual work had to be done by Hermiod on location. Landry thanked them and sent them home, saying they would be notified regarding how things turned out. They went to John's office instead.

"So what's the plan?" John asked as soon as they crowded inside and shut the door.

"Plan?" Beckett asked.

"The plan to save the city, Carson," McKay snapped. "Try to keep up."

"Excuse me?"

"Hypothetically speaking," Weir said, "any plan would require a way to get past the gate shield. Otherwise there's not much point in talking about anything else."

McKay nodded. "Well, I did write a backdoor to the shield program, not long after Kolya tried to take the city. So, I mean, it could "hypothetically" let us get into the Gate Room."

"The bridge could be programmed to send us to New Athos, right?" John asked. "Teyla and Ronon would help us, and we could use all the hands we can get."

"The problem with the bridge is that we'll need the jumper to use it, what with the small issue of Midway being open vacuum," McKay said. "It's locked up and only a few people on Lee's research team have access to it. Now, I'm already going to have to hack into the gate controls, but bypassing internal security would mean one more possible way someone could notice what we're doing. Hypothetically doing. Whatever. The point is, we need to either steal a key card or get Lee to add one of us to the access list."

Cam raised his hand. "Actually, I have access. I was supposed to help with any test flights."

"Oh, really," John growled. "I didn't know that."

Cam rolled his eyes. "There's not a lot of experienced experimental spacecraft pilots around here. And don't look at me like that, it's not like I ever had a chance to take her up. I would have brought you with me."

"Right." John kept giving him the evil eye but said, "Rodney, can you do that hacking stuff from here?"

"Yeah, sure," McKay said, as if it was an utterly stupid question. Maybe it was.

"Good. Mitchell and I will get us some gear together. Carson, if you need anything from the infirmary, go get it but come back as fast as you can. Otherwise, you three stay in here. I don't want anyone wondering why you're wandering around the base." John made as if to open the door then stopped. "Oh. Is there anyone here who wants to leave before this turns un-hypothetical?"

No one did, and so John and Cam headed off to find the gear and supplies they would need. They barely made it down the corridor and around a corner before John pulled Cam into an alcove.

"You shouldn't be helping," John hissed. "Take it from me, this is the sort of thing that really doesn't help your career."

"You think I care about that? Besides, this is the sort of thing SG-1 is famous for."

Cam tried to smile but it turned into a grimace as he thought about his team and exactly what Sam, Teal'c, and Daniel would do to him once they found out about this stunt. Sam and Daniel were at least at home, but Teal'c and Vala was just two levels away in his quarters and so even a need for speed couldn't excuse leaving them behind. They were all too valuable to risk on what was almost certainly a doomed suicide mission. For that matter, so were McKay and John, but Cam knew better than to try to argue that particular point.

"Why are you even doing this? Atlantis wasn't your home."

Cam almost reached out and shook John silly. "I'm not doing this for Atlantis, John. I'm doing it for you."

"Oh," John said. His face scrunched up as he thought about it. "Oh, right."

Cam dragged John out of the alcove and toward the elevator, shaking his head. "God help me, John, but sometimes I feel like I need to smack some sense into you."

"Sorry."

They made a few trips around the base, getting weapons, armor, BDUs, and other supplies from different storage rooms and armories and bringing them all to Sam's lab. It was relatively close to the jumper and as good as place as any to avoid attention, and if McKay needed anything special chances were it could be found there. Cam took the opportunity to write a hasty note, explaining where he was going and asking Sam to take care of telling Momma if he didn't come home. That done, they called the others to join them.

"I think I have an idea of how to take care of the replicators," McKay said as they got geared up. Weir coughed and gave him a pointed look. "Okay, Elizabeth has an idea. Remember Niam?"

"The robot we left floating in space?" John asked.

"Exactly. I think we can use his body to hack into the other Asurans. With any luck we can just press a few buttons and turn the rest of them off, or at least make them unable to hurt us."

Cam frowned. "It'd be that easy?"

"For me, yes. For anyone else, it'd be impossible."

When everyone was ready they headed off, Cam and John in the lead. Thankfully most of the corridors were deserted at that time of night, but almost as soon as they got off the elevator they ran into Wallace, who was limping down the corridor on a pair of crutches.

"Uh. Hey, lieutenant," John said.

"Hi, sir," Wallace said morosely.

"What are you up to?"

"General Landry wanted to talk to me about reassignment." Wallace looked at the team. "Are you already going on missions without me?"

Cam shook his head and smiled. "Naw, this is just for a top-secret assignment with SG-1. It's real hush-hush, you can't tell anyone, okay?"

"Wow," Wallace said with wide eyes. "No one will hear about it from me, sir!"

"Good man." Cam clapped him on the shoulder. "Oh, and Landry's busy with the rest of SG-1 right now, so you might as well take your time before heading down there."

"Yes, sir!" With that, Wallace got out of their way.

"You lied to him," John said as they hustled down the hall. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Excuse me?"

"Seriously, I never thought I'd see the day when Cameron Mitchell lied to a vulnerable hero-worshiping kid like that. Are you feeling okay?"

"Shut up, Sheppard."

When the reached the jumper, Siler was inside. He took one look at Cam's zat and managed to say, "Not again," before Cam stunned him. John dropped into the pilot's chair and the jumper hummed to life around them. Cam and McKay both tried to sit in the copilot's position.

"Out of my way," Cam growled as he tried to shove McKay aside.

"No, you move!"

"I'm the only other pilot here, that's my seat."

"And I'm not a thick-headed moron and I know what I'm doing!"

"Gentlemen, is this really the time?" Weir asked, sounding so much like Cam's mother that he instinctively froze. McKay slipped past and planted his ass in the chair with a little, "ha ha!", forcing Cam to sit down behind John.

Ahead of the jumper the lab doors ground open and as soon as there was enough clearance John lifted off and slid the ship forward into the long shaft leading down to the gate room. He glanced sideways at McKay and gave a little nod. McKay didn't even hesitate before punching an address into the DHD.

"Aaaaand it's active!" he said. "Go, go, go!"

The jumper dropped like a stone and barely stopped before smacking into the ramp. There was a muffled voice outside but John ignored it and sent the jumper through the wormhole. Somehow it seemed to take longer before they emerged on the other side.

"So far, so good," John said. "Rodney?"

McKay started fiddling with his tablet and the control console. "This will just take a second."

A second turned into a minute, and then another, and without warning Beckett shouted, "My turtles!"

"What?" Weir said hesitantly, like she wasn't entirely sure she even wanted to know.

"I just bought some wee baby turtles, and no one knows to feed them."

"I... well, turtles are pretty hardy."

John chuckled. "And they make good soup."

"That they do," Cam agreed. He did his best to ignore the doctor as he continued to talk about the many wonders of pet turtles and found himself wondering how it was possible the man could make even Daniel's ramblings seem interesting. Thankfully, Beckett was stopped by a transmission from the SGC.

"Colonel Sheppard, I'm going to assume you're still at the midway point," Landry said, looking as pissed as Cam had ever seen him. "I understand why you're doing this, Colonel, and I'll even call it brave. That doesn't change the fact that if you don't return immediately, I am going to personally see to it that your career in the -"

John smacked a button on the console and the transmission cut off. He looked over his shoulder at Cam with a wild grin and said, "At least he doesn't seem to have noticed you're here yet."

"Woo hoo." That would last right up until Landry saw the security footage or Siler woke up, at which point the only thing that would stop Landry from even more furious would be a stroke.

McKay finally got the macro changed and they gated to New Athos. John barely even managed to open his mouth before Teyla and Ronon agreed to help without even knowing what the plan was, or if there even was a plan. Cam got a quick nap in while McKay built a bomb and attached it, but soon they were off again.

In short order, they disabled the gate shield, backed through the gate room wall with a horrible screeching noise, blew up the entire stargate operations complex, and flew off into space to retrieve a floating killer robot. Under other circumstances it might have been exciting, but as it was Cam was mostly reminded of exactly why he absolutely despised having other people pilot a ship he was flying in.

It only got worse from there.

"No, look, left, left!" Cam shouted.

"Christ, will you shut up?" John snarled as he sent the jumper spinning right instead. "Even McKay doesn't bitch about my flying this much!"

Behind them, a building exploded. "Yeah, well, he doesn't know how bad you are at it!"

"I'm better than you ever were!"

"Bullshit!" The jumper rocked as a drone clipped its side. "I could have dodged that!"

"Don't make me turn this ship around," John said before plunging the jumper straight down into the ocean. "McKay, have you turned the damned things off yet?"

"I'm sorry, I was distracted by the pair of screeching ten-year-olds I've been forced to share a cockpit with!"

Ronon chuckled, earning him a glare from both pilots, while in the rear compartment Beckett moaned, "I think I'm going to be sick."

John poked at the console and soon they were in contact with General O'Neill. The good news was that he was still alive. The bad news was that he sounded more than a little bit annoyed at the fact that they were not, in fact, part of an actual sanctioned rescue mission.

"So I take it this means that this means your ship isn't packed full of strapping young marines carrying extremely large weapons?" O'Neill asked over the radio.

"Not as such, no," Weir replied.

O'Neill sighed. "I know I'm going to regret asking this, but who do you have with you?"

"Colonel Sheppard, Doctor McKay, Doctor Beckett -"

"Woo, Beckett," O'Neill muttered.

"- and Colonel Mitchell."

There was a long, drawn-out silence interrupted only by dark muttering from McKay, creaking noises from the hull, and an exceedingly ominous dripping noise from somewhere in the back. When O'Neill spoke again, he sounded dangerously cheerful.

"Mitchell, you say."

"Howdy, sir," Cam said.

"I bet there's a really interesting story behind you being here."

Cam and John glanced at each other. "I suppose you could say that, sir. Just so you know, we've got a plan to rescue you and destroy the replicators."

O'Neill scoffed at that. "Of course you do. Just so _you_ know, Mitchell, if by some miracle we don't all die horribly, you're fired." He waited a beat, then added, "And so's Sheppard."

"Uh. Roger that, sir."

"I told you this was a bad idea," John said.

John landed the jumper in an underwater bay and O'Neill had to take a swim to find the controls to drain it, at which point Cam added "strangled by wet general" right behind "replicators" and "fried by prior" to his current list of most likely ways to die. McKay was left behind to keep fiddling with the space-replicator with Ronon to guard him while the rest of the team went to meet up with O'Neill.

That turned out to be a complete bust. Cam knelt down beside the pile of shell casings they found instead and said, "Well, shit."

John looked like someone had just shot his favorite puppy. "Yeah, I think that about sums things up."

"Daniel's going to kill me. Assuming Tea'lc doesn't do it first as part of some Jaffa revenge thing."

"There are no bloodstains," Teyla said from a few feet away. "If the Asurans killed them, they did not do so here."

"Which means they're probably going to be mind probed," Weir added. Cam had heard all about replicator mind probes from his teammates, which mostly served to inform him just how screwed it meant they were.

"On the bright side," John said, not sounding at all like he believed there was a bright side, "they're probably being held in the brig, so we know where to find them. This shouldn't affect the plan, either."

McKay chose that moment to radio them in a panic. "Sheppard? We have a serious problem. Really serious. Like, immensely, Earth-shatteringly huge - damn it, Ronon, stop poking the dust!"

John looked like someone had shot his replacement puppy as he stared at the pile of silver dust that had once been their secret weapon. He scratched his head and asked, "Anyone have a Plan B?"

"I say we shoot 'em," Ronon said. "You said these guns would kill them, right? Shouldn't be too hard."

McKay shook his head. "Sooner or later they'd figure out how to become immune to the effect, and then we'd be even more screwed than we are now."

"Like the Borg," John said.

"No, nothing at all like - well, yes, like the Borg."

"Usually at this point either Daniel would convince the bad guys to embrace love and peace, or Sam would build an even better death ray," Cam offered. He looked at McKay expectantly.

"Why do you people always look at me for the answer?" McKay asked with a fierce scowl. "Just because I have more brainpower than the SGC's entire military staff doesn't mean I can just snap my finder and magically create a ARG big enough to fry every replicator at the same -" He stopped talking, his eyes widened, and he snapped his fingers. "Wait, wait, wait."

"What is it, Rodney?" Weir asked.

"I have an idea. How much C-4 do we have?"

McKay's plan was to use the shield as a giant anti-replicator weapon. The problem was that doing that would require physically modifying the shield generators, which meant running around the city from generator to generator dodging replicators. The sad thing was that as plans went, it was a hell of a lot simpler and safer than a lot of plans Cam had taken part in lately.

"Everyone knows what to do, right?" John asked as they prepared to split up. "Good. Rodney, you're with me. Ronon, with Elizabeth. Mitchell and Teyla with Beckett."

Cam frowned and nodded. It wasn't the way he would have preferred to split up, but it made sense to put two combatants with the least capable civilian.

"Good luck, everyone," John said. His gaze lingered on Cam and he gave him a small smile and a jaunty wave. "See you around, Cam."

"See you around?" Cam repeated.

John shrugged. "You know what I mean."

"See you around too, then." Cam looked at Teyla and Beckett. "Doctor, ma'am. It's your city, probably best if you lead the way."

"Very well, Colonel," Teyla said with a grave nod.

The three of the crept through the city towards their first target, Teyla in the lead, Cam watching their six, and Beckett between them twitching like a frightened rabbit. If they got into a firefight, Cam suspected he'd be glad ARGs were harmless to humans. They made it to the first generator without so much as seeing a replicator, though, much less engaging any; the same went for the second and third. It was only as they started for the last generator that they ran into trouble.

"I'm no expert," Cam said as a deep hum began to run through the city, "but that probably isn't a good sign."

"I have never heard anything like it before," Teyla said. "We should hurry."

John's voice came over the radio as they started to hustle a little faster. "Teyla, Sheppard. How far along are you?"

"We are almost to our last generator, Colonel," she told him.

"Listen, that sound you hear is the stardrive powering up. McKay says that if we take off too soon the shield plan might not work. Are you guys near the chair room?"

Teyla glanced up and down the hall. "No, but we are near a transporter that can get us there."

"Good. We need someone to put a couple of drones into the engines so they can't take off."

"You can't be serious!" Beckett exclaimed. "You know drones and I don't mix. I'll end up blowing up the entire bloody city!"

John sounded amused as he said, "Which is why Mitchell is going to do it."

"Roger that, Sheppard. I'm on my way." Cam looked at his companions. "Transporter's that way, right? You get the last generator taken care of and I'll deal with the drive."

Teyla nodded. "Take care, Colonel."

Cam ran to the transporter. It took him only a moment to remember the right destination and then he was across the city and dashing down another almost identical corridor. He slowed as he neared chair room until he was creeping silently down the hall. A peek around the last corner showed he had been right to be cautious, because a pair of Asurans were guarding the blast door leading to the chair itself. He pursed his lips as he thought about his next move. He was fairly certain he could shoot them both before they could react, but McKay had been adamant that the ARGs be used as few times as possible. Cam took a breath to steady himself, pulled out his zat, and sprang around the corner.

The ARG worked as promised and made one Asuran break apart into a million little pieces. The other froze in place as a zat blast caught it square in the chest. Electricity crackled around it and the smell of ozone filled the air as Cam shot again and then a third time. The Asuran's entire body began to glow and with a couple more shots it exploded, sending little chunks of melted replicator flying several feet in every direction.

"Gotcha," Cam said with a grin as he waltzed past the ex-guards. The chair was sitting in the center of the room and he dropped into it without hesitation, thinking it couldn't possibly be more difficult than flying a 302.

Something went _click_ in his head as the chair lit up and reclined.

Pure raw power rushed across every nerve in Cam's body. It was exhilarating, it was terrifying, it was every flight Cam had ever made wrapped into one amazing package. There was something else there with him, alive-but-not (_/welcome newcomer welcome/_), and so many options flickered before his eyes that he was almost overwhelmed. He forced himself to focus on the **stardrive** (_/preflight sequence in progress / completion in 42 seconds/ unable to override/_) and then on the **drones** (_/munitions 99.8% capacity/_). Schematics appeared and the city helpfully determined what targets were most likely to cause immediate delay without making eventual repair too difficult: a set of power regulators connecting the main sublight engines to primary power. Disabling any three would prevent liftoff.

**Fire.**

Three drones lifted out of the north-east pier's weapons bay and curved down almost to sea level before ducking through an open balcony door and into primary transport corridor NE-28, then splitting off into separate maintenance passageways to reach their final targets. The drives went offline as automatic failsafe protocols engaged and powered them down. With that done, Cam wondered what else he could do from there, like fry the Asurans without bothering with risky shield modifications. He got an almost apologetic reply of (_/internal defenses locked from control room / insufficient security clearance to override/_).

Cam heard footsteps pounding closer before he could investigate further. He turned the chair off and stood, wobbling a bit as he did. He tossed his weapons aside and raised his hands just as a dozen Asurans poured into room.

"I surrender," he said, just in case they didn't get the idea. "Take me to your leader."

The Asurans took Cam to a holding cell buried deep somewhere in the city. O'Neill and Woolsey were standing in the middle, and off to one side Beckett was kneeling next to Teyla's still form. She was still breathing, thankfully, and Cam thought a little prayer that she was only stunned and not hurt more seriously.

"Nice of you to join us, Mitchell," O'Neill said when the replicators shoved Cam inside the cell.

"It's wonderful to be here, sir," Cam told him.

O'Neill made a show of looking around. "I notice you seem to have left the rest of your team at home."

"That I did, sir."

"While I'm glad they're not going to be slaughtered like the rest of us, I can't help but think that Carter could have come up with a plan that didn't suck donkey balls."

"That does seem likely, sir."

"You're fired."

"Understood, sir."

The replicators dragged Weir and Ronon into the cell a minute later, literally in Ronon's case, and shortly after that John and McKay arrived as well. O'Neill glared at them.

"I was just telling ex-Colonel Mitchell here how fired he is," he drawled. "By the way, I'm busting you back to second lieutenant. Also, you're fired."

"Huh." John bit his lip and glanced sideways at Cam. "You couldn't have waited until after we were all vaporized, sir?"

"No one will be vaporized, Colonel Sheppard," one of the Asurans said. "Mr. Woolsey informed us of your attempt to sabotage the shield generators and the explosives have been removed."

"He stuck his hand in my head!" Woolsey protested before anyone could even look at him. "What was I supposed to do?"

"No one blames you, Richard," Weir said.

McKay raised his hand. "I do."

The Asuran, who seemed slightly annoyed at the interruptions, went on, "Your warship will be arriving in approximately two hundred and fifty seconds. When it does, the city's shield will be active and we will use its weapons to disable and capture the ship."

If the Asuran was planning on gloating further, it didn't get a chance. There was a flash of light and every replicator in the room spontaneously fell apart in a shower of robo-dust. When it was clear they weren't going to reform, McKay clapped his hands in glee.

"Ha! It worked! I'm brilliant!"

"Amazing work, Rodney," Weir said.

"Well, it was a, a group effort, but thank you."

"Huh," O'Neill said. "I knew something like this would happen."

"You did?" Woolsey asked.

"I knew McKay was stalling for some reason when he was trying to open the door, and even he's not quite dumb enough to blab the secret plan when he knew they could read our minds."

"Wait, not _quite_?" McKay shouted.

John caught Cam's eye and jerked his head towards the exit. They snuck away from the impending explosion, snagging a pair of Asuran weapons from floor as they did, and went to make sure the coast was clear.

Quietly, John asked, "You okay?"

"Peachy. You?"

"Likewise."

That proved to be the full extent of John's concern, and as there was no sign of any Asurans nearby they called for the rest of the group to follow them up to the control room. They arrived with plenty of time to spare, which was good as it would have really sucked to get this far only to be nuked by the _Daedalus_.

"_Daedalus,_ this is Doctor Weir on Atlantis," Weir said when communications were established. "I'd like to inform you that we've managed to retake the city. We're transmitting authentication codes now."

On the screen, Caldwell looked like he had bitten into a lemon. "Those codes are no longer valid, Doctor Weir."

O'Neill joined Weir in front of the camera. "Caldwell, General O'Neill here. The replicators are all dead and the situation's under control."

"General, you know I can't just take your word for it. You all may have been compromised."

"Is he always this grumpy?" Cam whispered to John.

John nodded. "Pretty much, yeah."

"Steven, I understand your position, so what we're going do is lower the shield," Weir said. She gestured to McKay, who made a face but tapped a control. Through the windows Cam could see the sky grow clear as the shield disappeared. "Your scans can confirm that we're the only ones down here and that the city's weapons are powered down, and I'm sure Hermiod can tell you whether or not we can raise the shield again before you can destroy us. We'll cooperate with whatever tests you think are necessary."

Caldwell looked to the side, about where the sensors operator would be, and apparently heard something positive because he nodded. "All right. A team of marines will arrive shortly after we drop out of hyperspace. If there is any sign that this is a trick, I won't hesitate to fire."

Cam found himself slipping his hand into John's, thankful that there was a console between them and anyone who might notice. There was still a chance Caldwell would follow order better than they had and simply take the opportunity to beam down a warhead or three, picking them up in the process if they were lucky or leaving them if they weren't. A flash of light filled the room and resolved into a squad of marines in hazmat gear. Cam let go to raise his hands in surrender.

The marines quickly secured the control room and minutes later Cam and the other were transported up to the _Daedalus_ for a detailed examination. They were poked and prodded, run through various scanning machines, and eventually herded down to engineering where Hermiod manipulated his controls for a few moments. Thankfully whatever probing he was doing was completely non-invasive.

"They are completely human, with no sign of tampering," Hermiod pronounced. He blinked and added, "As I informed you when I did my initial scan from orbit." He blinked again and looked down at his console and started to quietly mutter to himself. "_Hevrall nefet O'Neill sille ne epsi Thor slelal._"

Cam wasn't sure what the alien was saying about O'Neill and Thor, and quite frankly given some of the wilder tales Daniel and Sam had come up with during team nights Cam wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know.

Caldwell ignored Hermiod as well. "In that case, Doctor Weir, General, I'd appreciate it if I could get an update on exactly what the situation here is. The rest of you can use the mess or the officer of the watch can find you a bunk."

O'Neill, Weir, and Caldwell left. Beckett looked around the remaining group.

"Actually, Teyla, Ronon, if you don't mind coming with me to the infirmary, I'd like to do a quick check-up to make sure the Asurans didn't do you any harm," he said. "Who knows what those weapons of theirs do to stun you."

"Doctor Beckett," Woolsey started, and Beckett smiled at him.

"I can check you as well, aye."

McKay clapped his hands. "So, food?"

"I could eat," John replied, and Cam said, "Maybe a little snack. After that I'm going to lay down and sleep for a week."

They started to leave but before Cam could get out the hatch Hermiod looked up again.

"Colonel Mitchell."

Cam stopped. "Yeah?"

"On behalf of my people, thank you for your recent assistance."

Cam scrambled to dredge up some recent mission where the Asgard had been involved, even peripherally, but the only thing he could come up with was the battle of the supergate. Given that Kvasir's cruiser had barely managed to escape and certainly hadn't done so in one piece, he somehow doubted that could be counted as assistance.

"You're welcome, although I'm not sure what I did."

"Indeed." Hermiod looked back at his computer. Cam waited a minute until it was clear the Asgard didn't feel like saying anything more before he shrugged and started walking.

"What was that about?" McKay asked.

"Beats me."

John looked over his shoulder. "Maybe he was just being weird to amuse himself. Between you and me, I'm pretty sure that's why he doesn't wear pants."

"None of them do, John," Cam told him.

"Oh."

A turkey sandwich and eight hours in a bunk left Cam feeling a lot better, even if he didn't quite fit in the bunk and it seemed like there was a huge gaping hole beside him. After a quick breakfast most of them went back down to Atlantis. Teyla and Ronon disappeared through the gate to tell the other Athosians what had happened; McKay plopped himself down before a control console and started making gleeful noises about something zed-related; Weir and O'Neill slipped into her office to speak with each other.

Cam and John made their way out to the control room's external balcony and leaned against the railing shoulder-to-shoulder as they gazed out at the city and ocean. It was probably going to be one of the last moments alone they would have anytime soon, baring a night or two back home while John packed. There was no question in Cam's mind that John would be coming back to Atlantis, unless O'Neill was a bigger prick than Cam thought he was.

"So, this sucks," John said without warning.

Cam shook his head. "You don't mean that."

"No, I do," John insisted. "I was finally getting used to Earth again and finally having a chance at... at _more_ and the Ancients had to go and fuck things up. I almost wish they hadn't."

'Almost' was the key word to that sentence, Cam knew, and for a moment it rankled him. He let it go, though, because John wasn't saying anything they both hadn't said time and again through their entire careers. The only difference was that now 'almost' meant 'Atlantis' instead of 'flying' and 'duty'.

"It was nice while it lasted," Cam said.

"Yeah." John looked at Cam, opened his mouth, closed it. He looked away again. "Tell Momma I'm sorry about missing the holidays. Somehow I get the feeling I'm not going to be able to get away anytime soon."

They had almost a month of leave scheduled, Thanksgiving to Christmas. With all three leads on Merlin's weapon having run up dry, it had even looked like Cam would be able to make it.

"She'll understand. Be a bit annoyed, too, but still understand."

"Good." Another minute drifted by in silence before John said, "Listen, you know I suck at all this."

A small grin found its way onto Cam's face. "You do. You really do." Fifteen years of doing this and John still couldn't say goodbye for shit.

John ducked his head down and smiled too before saying, "I was kinda hoping never to have to do it again, spare us both the trouble of my flailing around," in a quiet, wistful voice.

"Me too," Cam admitted. His eyes narrowed as a thought came to him, the barest glimmer of an idea, something he wouldn't have even dared to consider for a second a day ago. If he had already taken one insane, nearly suicidal chance for John, though, what was one more? "Me too," he repeated more slowly as he came to a decision. "John, you mind if I take a minute to go talk with the general? I need ask him a few things."

John snickered. "Like what you're going to say to Landry? Let me tell you, I'm pretty fucking glad I don't have to have that conversation."

"Something like that. I'll be back in a minute."

Cam ambled across the control room, past McKay and over the bridge to Weir's office. The door was open and she and O'Neill were chatting about something inside. He rapped the door frame to get their attention.

"Ma'am. Sir. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important, but I'd like to have a word with General O'Neill."

"You're not interrupting at all, Colonel," Weir said. "I should probably check on what Rodney's doing anyways. I'll talk with you again later, Jack."

O'Neill took a step backward and made as if to lean back on a non-existent desk, and when that failed he crossed his arms and said, "So, I guess this was probably the first time you've pulled one of these 'acting against orders' stunts. Worried about Landry?"

"Not exactly, sir, although that's part of it." Cam took a deep breath and before he could reconsider quickly said, "I'd like to request a transfer to Atlantis."

O'Neill frowned. "Mind if I ask why?"

"I'm not really supposed to tell you, sir."

"Huh," O'Neill said. He had the same knack Daniel had for cramming a few pages' worth of meaning into one syllable and a pair of raised eyebrows: mild surprise, curiosity, a trace of amusement. "Well, that's new."

"Not really, sir."

"What about SG-1?"

"They can get along fine without me, sir."

"There wouldn't even be an SG-1 anymore if it weren't for you," O'Neill pointed out, "and the way I've heard it you've been pretty valuable on the team."

Cam shook his head. He didn't know exactly what his team was telling O'Neill about him, but they clearly hadn't mentioned some of his more spectacular screwups. "I might have got them back together, sir, but I'm replaceable. Sam, Daniel, Teal'c, they're not. I can think of a dozen men or women who I'd trust to join the team. Hell, you could slot my brother in without even changing the name on my locker and the only difference would be the team getting a bit uglier."

"I'm not sure that's possible," O'Neill said with a small smile that quickly disappeared. "The promotion board's meeting next month, you know. A transfer after this kind of incident's not going to look good at all."

Cam nodded. He had the time in grade and he was pretty sure Landry had submitted his name for consideration. With his record and a Medal of Honor on his chest, the chances of Cam getting passed by were slim to none. They had been, at least.

"I'm aware of that, sir, but I knew there'd be consequences when I came on this mission."

"Mmmm." O'Neill seemed to consider that for a moment. "You still haven't told me why, you know. A year ago you were begging to be on SG-1."

Cam didn't know if he would call it begging, but now wasn't the time to contest it. "All I can say is that priorities change, sir, and that with the way things are going I'd like a shot at a halfway-normal life before it's too late. I know it won't be easy, but nothing worth doing ever is."

"I don't know if I would go that far. Fishing, for example, is easy but definitely worth doing." O'Neill turned to stare down at the gate for a minute. Cam let him think, knowing the last thing he should do was push him while he made a decision like this. Finally O'Neill said, "Is it safe to assume this won't screw with your job?"

"I think so, sir, and if it does you'll be the first to know."

"All right," O'Neill said. Cam was momentarily surprised at the ease O'Neill accepted it, but then realized that if the man trusted him with his team it wasn't a leap to trust him in other matters. "You and Sheppard can explain to Weir why she's getting an extra colonel. Given the amount of effort she's put into keeping him in charge, I imagine she may be a bit peeved."

"I'll take care of it, sir. Thank you, sir."

"You took care of my kids for me. It's the least I can do." O'Neill turned and walked to the door, pausing beside Cam as he opened it. "And Mitchell? If you fuck this up, even Daniel won't know enough words to describe how pissed I'll be."

"Yessir."

Cam waited until O'Neill had ambled out of the control room before dashing back to the balcony. John hadn't moved from his position at the rail. It was at that point that Cam realized that he might have been slightly hasty.

"So, um," Cam said as he tried to figure out what to say. His old Cross-Time Guide to Dealing With John hadn't really mentioned a situation like this. "I think I may have just stolen your job."

"That's fine," John said absently, then, "Wait, what?"

"I asked the general for a transfer. To here."

"Really," John said, his voice completely flat. Cam winced and nodded.

"Yeah."

"I -" John turned away from Cam and balled up his fists. "How could you possibly be that stupid?"

"Okay, so maybe I should have asked you first," Cam admitted.

John whirled around and advanced on Cam, more pissed off than Cam had seen him since they had met. "No, you shouldn't have talked to O'Neill at all, because the entire idea is fucked up!"

Cam swallowed and looked down at the floor. He opened his mouth to offer to go back to the general and tell him Cam had changed his mind, no matter how chickenshit it would make him look, but John beat him to the punch.

"Do you have any idea what this is going to do to your career? No one's going to care if you asked for it, it's going to look like they're shipping you off into exile."

Cam looked back up with a frown. "Wait a second."

"And if that's not bad enough, God knows what the rumors are going to be like. If you come out here, half of Homeworld is going to guess why. Once that happens, Hayes could stop fucking around with study commissions and start issuing rainbow patches and it still would screw any chance you had of getting a star anytime soon."

Increasingly exasperated, Cam said, "John, wait."

"I wish you could do it, I really could, but you _can't_. You're the one who everyone expects to be first in our class to make general. I'm just a fuckup. I'm not worth it."

At that point, Cam gave in and punched him - not hard, barely even a love tap, because the last thing he wanted was for O'Neill to start getting weird impressions, but still a solid hit. John stood there holding his jaw and blinking in surprise, the anger on his face completely replaced by confusion, while Cam shook his fist at him.

"Lord help me, John, but I don't let anyone else talk that way about you and I'm sure as hell not going to let you."

"So, what, you regularly defend my honor?" John mumbled while prodding at his teeth.

"A couple times," Cam hedged, although a dozen would have been more accurate. "And get your finger out of your mouth, it's disgusting. I didn't hit you that hard."

"Did to," John said. He got a thoughtful look on his face. "Does this have anything to do with why Major Leonard was walking funny last week?"

"Not exactly," Cam said. "He's a bit of a loudmouth and he said something about you and me where Teal'c could hear it and... well. It didn't end well for him. Lam said he'll be lucky if he's ever a father."

John started to chuckle, and then laugh so hard he had to back up against the wall and slide down it to sit on the floor. Cam stared at him for a while before starting to chuckle himself. It was John in a nutshell - easy going to irate and back again the space of a minute. He never stayed angry long, although when he did see fit to hold a grudge it was a truly unholy thing to behold.

"I'm not going to be able to change your mind, am I?" John finally asked, blinking tears out of his eyes.

"Not after you tried to pull this crap, no. You're just going to have to get used to having me around."

John shook his head "Well, I certainly didn't see that coming. Aren't you supposed to be the sane one?"

"Not today, apparently." Disobeying orders to go on a suicide mission with his lover followed by outing himself to one of his superiors - maybe Cam had been dosed with some mind-altering chemical on Castiana. Cam suspected that it was a more permanent emotional affliction, though.

"I guess you had to crack sooner or later." John climbed to his feet. "If you're going to stick around, then I should give you a more thorough tour. We can start with seeing if the Ancients opened up any residences with real beds."

Cam grinned. "Sounds good to me."


	6. Chapter 6

If John had thought organizing the second wave had been a bitch, it was nothing compared to trying to move all three hundred people in the expedition back to the city on essentially no notice at all, and doing it by jumper relay because it would take the _Daedalus_ six weeks to do a round trip and they couldn't possibly wait that long to get back on track. It didn't help that half the SGC was avoiding like the plague because of Landry, even while the SG teams and a few other old hands who took their cue from SG-1 were instead verging on scarily respectful.

John didn't give a shit, though, because he was on top of the world and he was staying there no matter how many times the universe threw shit at him.

Elizabeth and O'Neill headed back to Earth first, along with Woolsey and Beckett. John, Cam, and Rodney had to stay at long enough to make sure there were no booby traps or other surprises waiting for some unsuspecting _Daedalus_ crewman to stumble over. That was the official story, at least, although John was pretty sure the delay was mostly so the Elizabeth and the general could talk with the president and make sure Landry wouldn't have a firing squad waiting. It must have worked, because they were greeted by SG-1 instead. They were color-coordinated, as usual. John had spent six weeks trying to figure out what the pattern was that determined what they wore, but still didn't have a clue.

"Cam!" Carter said as they stepped off the jumper.

"Sam!" Cam said with a wide grin. The two of them embraced, the nice-to-see-you-alive no-this-isn't-a-hug of old comrades that John had seen a thousand times. Jackson gave Cam a clap to the shoulder, Vala practically wrapped herself around Cam in a way that made John's trigger finger itch, and Teal'c simply inclined his head.

"It's good to see you in one piece," Carter said. She frowned deeply but there was a hint of laughter in her voice as she said, "That was an exceedingly stupid thing to do, Colonel, and you should be ashamed of yourself."

"Indeed," Teal'c said. "In your haste you neglected to bring available reinforcements. A rookie mistake, I believe you would call it."

"I had some help,"Cam said with a nod of his head to John. "Listen, guys, there's something I need to tell you."

"Oooh, a confession. I love those," Vala said. "Let me guess: you defeated the replicators using the illogical power of love. I saw that on one of your television shows once, it seemed rather effective."

"Vala!" Carter hissed. She jerked her thumb up towards one of the security cameras in the corner of the room. "This isn't the place!"

"Yes, of course, you're right." Vala sounded completely unrepentant as she lowered her voice. "Perhaps you'd prefer to share the details with me in private tonight? Maybe with a reenactment?"

Completely and utterly horrified and trying to find a way to get the conversation back on track, John blurted, "He's transferring to Atlantis." Cam sighed deeply and John meekly said, "Sorry?"

"Transferring," Jackson said slowly. "As in, leaving SG-1 and going there instead? You know, I tried that once, it didn't work too well."

"And why would you - oh." Carter looked between John and Cam. "Huh."

There was a long, awkward pause as everyone looked at each other - well, all the humans looked at each other while Teal'c stood there and raised an eyebrow - until finally Jackson said, "Well, good luck."

Carter nodded. "Yeah, and congratulations. I mean, commanding the expedition's military component - or sharing command, or whatever," she waved in John's direction, "is quite a step up from leading a five-man team."

Cam frowned deeply. "So, what, no protests? No begging me to stay? Guys, I'm hurt."

"Would it stop you?" Jackson asked.

"Probably not, but it'd certainly help my self esteem."

John chuckled at Cam's plaintive, vaguely offended tone. "Don't worry, Mitchell. I still appreciate you."

"Screw you, Sheppard."

"This is not the first time we have had a comrade leave us, Colonel Mitchell," Teal'c said, speaking up for the first time. "Like you, they were invaluable, and yet they moved on to other things they deemed equally important. If you have a chance to serve your people while obtaining greater personal fulfillment, we will not begrudge you that."

Jackson raised his hand. "Uh, actually, I will." Everyone looked at him. "What? He's going to Atlantis, I'm allowed to be envious."

Elizabeth, O'Neill, and Landry entered the room at that point, effectively ending the conversation. Not only was the presence of superior officers a bit of a damper because of the subject, but Landry looked like he might burst into flames and incinerate John at any moment.

"Howdy," O'Neill said. "Nice to see you guys again. Isn't that so, Hank?"

"Yes, it is," Landry bit out with a manic gleam in his eye.

"Nice to see you to, sirs," Cam said with an easy drawl. He somehow managed to make it sound genuine and earnest, although knowing Cam it was entirely possible he was. John knew there was no way in hell he could do that around Landry, so he just smile.

"The President has authorized the expedition to return to Atlantis, which means the IOA will probably follow suit pretty soon in order not to look like the idiots they are," O'Neill said. "Which in turn means we've got a lot of work to do and a lot of boring meetings to sit through." He suddenly pointed at Cam. "But first: do you have any idea why Thor swung by wanting to talk to me about you?"

"No, sir," Cam said. John had a horrid thought about Thor and the leaders of SG-1, which he quickly banished. He hoped it was a sign that he hadn't gotten enough over sleep the last few days rather than a sign of growing insanity.

"Thought so. Let's have a chat. The rest of you, we'll meet in the briefing room in fifteen minutes." O'Neill waved for Cam and started to leave, but turned around at the door to look at SG-1. "Well, except for you guys. Don't you people have a planet to save or something? I don't remember ever having time to just stand around yakking."

"Probably because senile dementia is setting in," Jackson muttered under his breath.

"I heard that!"

Landry stormed out of the room. John and Elizabeth followed him at a safe distance for a while, then Elizabeth pulled John into a side corridor with a serious expression on her face.

"John, have you heard about Colonel Mitchell's transfer request?"

"Oh. Yeah, I had," John said, trying not to look like he had just remember he had promised Cam he would tell before she could hear it from someone else. "Cool, isn't it?"

"Cool? John, he has almost two years seniority on you. I realize we owe him a large debt for his help, but that doesn't mean we need to just roll over and let the Pentagon use it as an excuse to put someone they like more in command."

"Seriously, Elizabeth, I think it's great, and not just because it'll cut my admin work in half."

She sighed. "I know he's your friend, but that doesn't change what's happening."

"He's not trying to usurp my position or something. He wants..." John waved for her to lean closer and lowered his voice, just in case someone was listening. "Look, the two of us are more the just friends, okay?" He really, really hoped he wouldn't have to say anything else about the matter.

"I see," Elizabeth said, stepping back and looking at him thoughtfully. He could practically see the gears working behind her eyes as she re-evaluated everything she knew about the two of them. "I suppose that does change things, then. I trust the two of you can maintain a professional relationship?"

"Elizabeth, have you ever known me to be unprofessional?" John asked.

She smiled despite a valiant attempt to keep her diplomat's poker face on. "All right, then. I want the two of you to work out how you'll be organizing the military command structure by tomorrow's senior staff meeting. I expect you to continue to attend those, by the way."

"I wouldn't miss them for the world." After all, where else would John get to watch Rodney sputter about missions to Goat World?

"Good." She gestured for him to start walking again. "I'm happy for you, by the way."

John felt himself blushing. "Thanks."

As they walked to the briefing room, John considered the situation. On the one hand, she knew and hadn't flipped out or anything. On the other hand, it meant that every time the three of them were in a room together, he would be sitting there knowing that she knew. It would probably be a bit... awkward.

Awkward definitely would have been a good way to describe the meeting that followed. At either end of the table sat Elizabeth and O'Neill. Down one side sat John, Cam, a rather battered and very annoyed-looking Lorne, and Rodney. Down the other were Landry, Colonel Reynolds, an Air Force colonel named Pleisey, Plessey, something like that, and Doctor Lee. The meeting went something like this:

Landry: I very much wish to string the valiant Colonel Sheppard up by his exceedingly large balls. Elizabeth: No. O'Neill: If it were up to me, I would shower him with medals. John: I am humble and desire no recognition of my exceptional bravery and skill. Cam: Likewise, I am content in simply knowing that I am courageous and exceedingly sexy. Rodney: Blah blah blah demand to keep all three ZPMs blah blah blah I want to have Carter's babies. Lorne: My head is killing me. Reynolds: Why are you maniacs in charge and not me?

John may not have been remembering it all correctly, because he spent most of his time doodling and ignoring anything that didn't seem relevant. What was important was that they were going back to Atlantis, that John was neither fired nor busted back to lieutenant, and that he would be spending several days in other meetings and appeasing the paper-eating gods of the Pentagon.

On the second day of John's latest adventures with bureaucratic hell, he and Cam were sitting in Cam's office trying to figure out how to convince Caldwell to part with one or two of his 302s. Lorne ruined their fun by coming in with an armful of folders.

"Do you two have any idea how much work you've caused me?" he asked, dropping the paperwork on Cam's desk with a thunk.

"Awww, I'm hurt," Cam said. "Aren't you glad to be heading back to Atlantis? And we'll be serving together again! It'll be just like old times."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled we're going back home and it'll be nice to have someone responsible in charge, but your timing sucks." Lorne pointed at the folders. "I just spent the last couple of days dealing with a system lord and wacky alien super-weapons and I'm not in a good mood. You're going to fill all these out, and do it correctly the first time, or I'm going to have Winchester use his evil powers to melt your brains."

John looked at Cam. "Don't you remember when he was young and polite to his superiors?"

"Maybe he's spent too long apart from his botanist," Cam suggested.

Lorne sat down heavily in one of the spare chairs. "You guys are going to be insufferable, aren't you?"

"You wouldn't have us any other way," John said.

"No, I suppose I wouldn't," Lorne admitted with a boyish grin.

John knew there was a reason he kept Lorne around. Besides paperwork, that was.

The three of them, along with a recently returned from Hawaii Stackhouse, spent the rest of the day beginning to pull their miniature battalion back together. Unlike John and Lorne, most of the marines and other assorted personnel had simply spent the last six weeks on leave and hadn't even received any reassignment orders. For the most part everyone was happy to volunteer to return, and as usual there were plenty of eager young men and women leaping for a chance to take any spaces that were open. John only winced a little when he authorized Wallace and Milton to join the expedition.

Two days later Cam and John spent the day in their apartment so they could pack everything up. All John had was essentially the same odds and ends he had arrived with six weeks before. Cam, on the other hand, had piles of random crap that needed to be taken care of. Some of it was going with them, like a few of his handmade blankets and pictures. The rest was either being split up among SG-1, donated to local charities, or being boxed up for one of Cam's cousins to retrieve and haul off to the family homestead for storage. SG-1 showed up with pizza for lunch and pitched in.

At one point, while Cam, Jackson, and Carter were outside filling up Cam's gigantic truck with boxes, John found himself alone in the bedroom with Teal'c and Vala looming over him.

"Um," John said from the floor, where he was trying to retrieve something from underneath the bed. "Something you guys need?"

"We are here to participate in a Tau'ri ritual," Teal'c intoned. John wasn't entirely sure he had ever heard anyone intone anything before he had met Teal'c.

"That's... cool?" John said.

"Indeed it is."

"We're going to threaten your life," Vala said cheerfully. "Since Sam isn't supposed to know about your terribly secret romance, and Daniel simply isn't very good at making threats - he gets distracted too easily - it falls to us to make sure you appreciate the dire fate that awaits you if Cameron is harmed."

John's eyes widened involuntarily. He couldn't help but think of just how very, very large Teal'c was and about various stories he had heard around the SGC about 'Jaffa revenge things'. He held up his hands. "Guys, I heard this from a couple of his relatives years ago. There's really no need to repeat it."

"Where's the fun in that?" Vala asked. She crouched down next to John. "Now, I may look harmless, but I was the host to a Goa'uld lord for almost fifty years. Qetesh rather liked hurting people, and since I had nothing better to do I took notes on what worked and what didn't."

"As the First Prime of Apophis, I was trained in many methods of inflicting punishment," Teal'c said. "For example, should you break the heart of Colonel Mitchell, I could strangle you with your own intestines."

Vala grinned. "After gelding you, of course."

John instinctively pressed his legs together. He had thought that being fed on by a Wraith was as bad as it got, but he had a feeling that the two of them could probably come up with something worse.

"Listen," he squeaked. It was a very manly squeak, but a squeak none the less. "I tried to talk him out of this, but you know how he is once he's made up his mind. I can't promise nothing is going to happen to him, but I'll do my damnedest to make sure it isn't because of me. I'm serious. I'd die before I hurt him."

Teal'c studied him for a moment. "I believe he is serious."

"Mmmm." Vala pursed her lips. "I don't know. We haven't even gotten to read him the list yet."

"List of what?" Cam asked, appearing from the hall. He looked down at Vala suspiciously. "What are you guys up to in here?"

She stood and smiled. "Just making small talk. Tell me, what do you plan to do with that lovely vase in the living room?"

"It's an heirloom," Cam said. "Which means you can't have it."

Vala draped her arm around Cam's neck and started guiding him out of the room. "Are you sure you couldn't find it in your heart to lend it to a dear friend so that she could brighten up her dreary underground room?"

"No, I'm pretty sure I couldn't."

Once the two of them were gone, John looked at where Teal'c continued to stand by the door and impersonate a menacing statute. "Are you done threatening me now?"

"It appears that is the case."

"Great!" John jumped to his feet and made for the door and the safety of Cam's company. "Thanks. I think."

"Colonel Sheppard," Teal'c said as John eased past him. "I have the utmost confidence that you mean what you said. However, I suggest you consider that dying for Colonel Mitchell may not be the best way to avoid causing him harm."

"Yeah," John said quietly. "I know. I guess I'll have to keep that in mind from now on, huh?"

"See that you do."

The next day, they left for Atlantis on the first jumper back. Like any carefully planned military operation, the move was barely-controlled chaos. Every thirty minutes, a jumper would depart the SGC, travel across the gate bridge, and land in the Atlantis jumper bay. Fifteen minutes later, one of the empty jumpers would make a flight in the other direction. That was the schedule, at least, although it quickly slowed down because there simply wasn't enough space at the SGC's tiny makeshift hangar to load people and supplies quickly. It would take almost a hundred flights to get everything that could be moved that way transported.

Fortunately, John didn't have to be the one coordinating things at that end. Instead he got the fun task of directing the marines doing most of the heavy lifting as they got everything put into place. He and Elizabeth had decided that since they now had more of the city explored, over twice as much manpower, and far more power available, it didn't make much sense to simply reoccupy the same cramped spaces the original expedition had started with and later expanded from haphazardly. Instead of living in small guest rooms, they would partially open up a pair of residential buildings in the city center; instead of using random closets and who-knew-what for storage or offices, more suitable areas would be chosen, and so on. John very much looked forward to using his new, much larger apartment with its new, much larger bed.

They worked for ten hours straight before calling it a day, and managed to get most of the essential supplies and equipment along with about half of the expedition transferred. The next morning, John left things in the capable hands of Lorne, as he was going to be busy with the extremely vital task of training Cam in how to fly jumpers.

Even with the relatively small number of people in the city, the control room was fully staffed and thrumming with energy as people orchestrated the hectic activity around the city. Chuck was waiting with tablet in hand when John and Cam arrived, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

"Good morning, Colonel Sheppard, Colonel Mitchell," he said. "Jumper One is ready and the supplies you requested have been loaded on board. Meteorology expects clear skies and only light breezes for at least the next twelve hours. Locally, of course."

"Supplies?" Cam said, shooting a 'that better not mean what I think it does' glare at John. John rolled his eyes at him and then subtly patted his pocket to make sure the supplies he _didn't_ ask Chuck for were where they were supposed to be.

"Lunch, sir," Chuck said. "I took the liberty of throwing in a blanket in case you wanted to eat outside the ship."

This time it was John shooting a glare at Chuck, who simply blinked innocently back at him. John wondered what rumors he had heard - all of them, probably - and which ones he believed - the right ones, probably. Chuck heard all, Chuck saw all, Chuck knew all, at least as far as the social activity around the city was concerned, which was exactly why he was the expedition's bookie. John wondered if he could get a cut of whatever pool was being run about him if he just went ahead and gave Chuck an inside scoop.

Apparently reading John's mind, Chuck added, "Also, sirs, while I have you here, could I interest you in making a wager on what the next major disaster or threat will be? City, planet, or galaxy-endangering, as usual."

Cam looked confused. "Sheppard, I know you can be lax on discipline, but enlisted men approaching officers about bets seems a bit much even for you."

"He's not enlisted. He's -" John stopped and pointed at Chuck, who dutifully supplied, "A Mountie, sir."

"A Mountie," Cam repeated flatly. "That's doesn't make sense."

"No, sir, it doesn't," Chuck agreed with a smile.

"Put me down for wacky Ancient technology," John said. To Cam, he went on, "Wraith is always a safe bet, but not terribly exciting. I bet killer robots is pretty popular too."

"But... oh, what the hell. Natural disaster."

"Very good, sir. That's all I needed. Have a pleasant flight."

As they climbed the stairs leading to the jumper bay, Cam asked, "Do I even want to know what I just offered to pay?"

"The standard bet's a candy bar or equivalent. He and Banks have a spreadsheet of current exchange values, based on what the going rate on the black market it. He runs that, too." John shrugged and spread his hands. "It seems to work pretty well, so Elizabeth and I have looked the other way. Of course, people make their own deals and bets involving goods or favors." He smiled slyly at Cam. "Including, you know, _favors_. Want to make a bet about who can fly fastest in exchange for some of those?"

"A bet involving something we're going to be exchanging anyways doesn't seem like much of a bet," Cam said with a smile of his own.

"Good point." John liked the sound of 'exchanging anyways.' They reached the jumper and John generously decided to allow Cam to take the pilot's seat. Without the slightest trouble or hesitation Cam got them in the air and pointed in the general direction of the mainland.

"Do you have any idea how fast these can go?" John asked after Cam had a few minutes to get used to the control.

"Nope. How fast?" Cam replied.

"I have no idea." John gave him a wild grin. "Want to find out?"

With a laugh and a rebel yell, Cam gunned the engine and sent them shooting off into the sunset - or at least in the direction that would have been into the sunset, if it weren't morning.


	7. Moments of Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several Outtakes for the fic itself, regarding how people found out about John and Cam.

**Lieutenant Evan Lorne**

"Oh, fuck," Evan said when he stepped out of the bar. He had told himself it was a bad idea to go to one even in the same town as the base, but eventually the urge to at least scope out the local scene had gotten the better of him. The chances of actually running into someone who might recognize him had seemed tiny. There he was, though, face to face with a pair of superior officers who not only knew him but shared an apartment in the same building he lived in. None of them were in uniform but Evan still had to fight the instinct to come to attention.

"Good evening, sirs," Evan said. It didn't come out half as confident as he wanted it to. He didn't even bother trying to smile, just kept his face as blank as he could.

"Lorne," Mitchell said with a nod. Beside him Sheppard was silent, but he looked faintly amused. Evan wasn't sure at all whether that was a good or bad sign. Sheppard scared him sometimes. "Nice night, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir. Very nice, sir."

Now Mitchell was smiling and while it didn't look malicious in the least Evan wasn't sure that Mitchell could ever look anything but good-natured. "Out exploring the town?"

"Yes, sir."

"Find anything interesting?" Sheppard asked, finally speaking up.

"Not yet, sir, no. This wasn't really my sort of place." Evan in a put-upon tone. Maybe if he played his cards right, he could make it seem like he hadn't realized what kind of bar it was when he arrived and had left as soon as he had done so. He hoped and prayed they would buy it.

Sheppard chuckled. "Is that so?"

"Yes, sir." Evan fidgeted under Sheppard's penetrating gaze.

"Anything wrong with it in particular?"

Mitchell huffed and shot Sheppard an annoyed look. "Leave him alone, John. The poor guy's about to die of fright."

"Awww, Cam, where's the fun in that?" Sheppard winked at Evan, then reached up to pull Mitchell into a long, sensual kiss.

"Oh, fuck," Evan repeated dumbly. They weren't roommates, they were _roommates_.

When they broke apart, Mitchell shook his head and grinned. "I guess that's one way to put him at ease."

"Sure is." Sheppard grinned as well and glanced at Evan. "Did you mean it when you said it wasn't your sort of place?"

"Uh." Evan looked at him with wide eyes, trying to figure out what Sheppard's game was. "Yeah, I did. It's a little too..." He trailed off, not sure how to express his disdain for the too-loud, hyper-active, hyper-slutty scene he had found inside without potentially insulting Sheppard or Mitchell if it was what they were into.

"I know what you mean." Sheppard closed the distance between Mitchell and Evan and put an arm around Evan's shoulders. "Come on, we're headed a place called Callahan's a few blocks away. It's got a better atmosphere, nicer people, and they don't charge an arm and a leg for a drink."

"The cheese fries rock, too," Mitchell added.

"What do you say?" Sheppard asked.

Evan found himself relaxing. It sounded like a genuine invitation, not a prelude to a proposition or something more sinister. He nodded. "Sure, that sounds good."

"Cool."

* * *

  
**Teyla Emmagen**

"You are distracted," Teyla said after her sticks struck home for the fourth time in half as many minutes.

"No, I'm not," John protested.

"Your reactions are slow, your movements sluggish, and you miss obvious openings and attacks," Teyla replied. She emphasized her words with a quick flurry of blows that John could have deflected years ago yet made it past his defenses none the less.

"Ow," John said. "Okay, maybe I'm a little distracted."

"Are you unwell?"

"Nope. I'm fine."

"Ah." Teyla smiled softly. She could guess what was the matter, and while with another person she might have waited for them to admit it themselves she knew it would be futile with John. "You miss Colonel Mitchell."

"What? No!" John vigorously shook his head. "What makes you think that?"

"You have been... moping since his departure this morning. There is no shame in longing for a loved one, John. It is perfectly normal. If you wish to talk about it, I am here for you."

"I'm not - it's not like - oh, never mind," John sputtered. "We're just good friends, okay?"

Teyla inclined her head. "Of course."

"Good."

"Just as Major Lorne and Doctor Parrish are good friends."

"Yeah - wait, no." John groaned. "Can we get back to you hitting me again?"

"If you wish." They raised their sticks and began to spar again. Teyla knew that John would say more if and when he felt like it, no matter how she prodded at him. If it was not something he wanted to deal with aloud, then she would help him distracted himself in other more physical ways.

Finally, after several minutes had passed, John said, "So Cam and I met back when we were twenty-two. It wasn't exactly love at first sight - well, not for me, anyways, but he's a hopeless romantic...."

* * *

  
**Doctor Rodney McKay**

_*puddlejumper_ has initiated a chat.  
**[puddlejumper]** hey rodney, you got a second?  
**[physicsgod]** No, but I rather imagine you won't go away anyways.  
**[puddlejumper]** cool. hey, this is secure, right?  
**[physicsgod]** Not at all. I always discuss Top Secret material on unencrypted Internet chats. Moron.  
**[puddlejumper]** just checking. listen, there's something i need to tell you.  
**[physicsgod]** Have you finally decided to grow up and admit that you're the one who stole my Snickers?  
**[puddlejumper]** what? rodney, that was a year ago and wasn't me.  
**[physicsgod]** Sure it wasn't.  
**[puddlejumper]** i'm not arguing about this right now. i just wanted to let you know that i've moved out of the sgc. i'm rooming with mitchell. I'm emailing you my contact info.  
**[physicsgod]** Mitchell? Mitchell, who TRIED TO KILL ME?   
**[puddlejumper]** he didn't try to kill you, rodney.  
**[physicsgod]** Yes, he did.  
**[puddlejumper]** no, he didn't.  
**[physicsgod]** Yes, he did. Don't think I don't know you're responsible, either.  
**[puddlejumper]** whatever.  
**[physicsgod]** So this is what you needed to bother me about?  
**[puddlejumper]** not entirely, no.  
**[physicsgod]** Well? Every minute I waste on this is a minute longer before I build a ZPM. You'll regret it when some alien fleet attacks and we all die from a lack of power.  
**[puddlejumper]** you're a jerk. you know that, right?  
**[physicsgod]** Wasting time!  
**[puddlejumper]** right. well, long story short, i'm not just rooming with mitchell, i'm fucking him. have been for a long time  
**[physicsgod]** Wait, what?  
**[puddlejumper]** oh, by the way, i'm gay.  
**[physicsgod]** WHAT?  
**[puddlejumper]** gay. homosexual. queer. i enjoy sucking cock and taking it up the ass  
**[physicsgod]** WHY DID I NOT KNOW THIS?  
**[puddlejumper]** it didn't seem important, but i figure that since i'm actually sleeping with him again that i should let you know. better that you find out now than by accident.  
**[puddlejumper]** … Rodney, you there?  
**[physicsgod]** !!!!!  
**[puddlejumper]** crap  
**[puddlejumper]** Look, this isn't going to be a problem, is it? I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, it's not because I don't trust you or something. I understand if you're angry.  
**[puddlejumper]** Rodney? Please say something.  
**[physicsgod]** MITCHELL?   
**[puddlejumper]** Yeeessss....  
**[physicsgod]** What. The. Hell? You can do better than him!  
**[puddlejumper]** ... I take it the gay thing isn't a problem?  
**[physicsgod]** Don't be stupid. The problem is your incredibly poor taste. Even Lorne did better than this and he's with a BOTANIST. We need to find you someone who isn't a complete imbecile, not to mention not homicidal.  
**[puddlejumper]** Naw, I'm good. Thanks... I think.  
**[physicsgod]** No, no, no. You're not good. He's deluded you, misled you with, with his weird Southern charm and talk about spaceships. He's completely unacceptable.  
**[puddlejumper]** He really isn't.   
**[physicsgod]** Maybe Lorne can find you some alternative pilot, if you insist on someone military. I bet there's some kind of Internet dating site for big gay pilot love or something.  
**[physicsgod]** Huh. What do you know, BigGayPilotLove.com.   
**[physicsgod]** Sheppard?  
**[physicsgod]** Stop ignoring me, Sheppard.  
**[physicsgod]** PICK UP YOUR GOD DAMNED PHONE.  
***puddlejumper** is away: sorry, busy fucking. bbiab.

* * *

  
**Colonel Samantha Carter**

Sam knocked a few times on the door of Cam's apartment and wasn't surprised when she didn't get an answer. Chances were good that he was taking advantage of his Saturday off to sleep in. She would have been, too, except she was planning to bake a cake for Cassie's birthday and her own pan had gone missing. She figured Cam wouldn't mind her borrowing one of his, especially since he would be getting to enjoy the results at the party on Sunday.

It wasn't until after Sam used her key to unlock the door and stepped inside that she even considered other reasons Cam might not answer the door. Either he was too busy to get up or he hadn't heard her knocking. Given how loud the moans coming from behind the couch were, she suspected the latter. She would have left, of course, but she stood there in shock for just a moment too long. The door thudded shut behind her and abruptly the moans stopped.

Then, just as if Sam's day wasn't already weird and embarrassing enough, John Sheppard's head appeared over the back of the couch. His hair was somehow even wilder than usual and his lips were red and bruised, leaving little question as to what he had been doing.

He stared at her. She stared at him. A moment later Cam's head popped up too. He was breathing hard and he had a flush that extended down his neck.

"Uh," Cam said. "Hi."

"Hi," Sam repeated faintly.

"You need something?"

"Cake pan."

"Second cabinet to the left of the sink."

"Thanks."

Sam didn't look, didn't look, absolutely didn't look as she walked over to the kitchen, not even when she heard Sheppard start to snicker. She got her pan and beat a hasty retreat to the door. Cam still looked absolutely mortified, while Sheppard was faintly amused. Sam could only imagine how shocked she had to look.

"Listen, Sam," Cam said. He stopped, apparently not having thought about what he wanted her to listen to.

She held up a hand. "Carry on, gentlemen."

"Yes, ma'am," Sheppard said. He threw her a sharp salute and dragged Cam back out of sight.

Sam carefully closed and locked the door behind her.

* * *

  
**General Jack O'Neill**

A transfer to Atlantis. What the hell was Mitchell thinking? Actually, scratch that: Jack knew that Mitchell wasn't thinking at all, or at least not with his brain. The real question was what Jack had been thinking when he said yes. Sure, Mitchell had helped save his life, but plenty of people had done that and Jack had never felt any urge to suddenly accommodate the whims of, say, Siler. Hell, he didn't even accommodate the whims of Daniel... much. Usually. Except for when he did, but the point was that Jack usually didn't let that sort of thing push him into making stupid decisions. Sending Mitchell out to Atlantis so that he could screw Sheppard on a more regular basis? That was the very definition of stupid, not to mention more than a little unprofessional. Jack had put aside those feelings long ago and pushed them aside again when they had threatened to reappear from time to time over the last ten years. It wasn't too much to expect the two of them to do the same.

Except...

Except Jack hadn't, really. He'd suppressed the liking men thing, sure, but it hadn't been that big of a sacrifice. At their age, he'd still had Sarah, still had _Charlie_. There had been long stretches of absence now and then, but he had always had them to come home to. If Jack's guesses were right, what Mitchell and Sheppard had was far more full of separation than time together. He wasn't sure he could blame them for choosing differently than he had and grasping at a chance to have the job and each other at the same time. Maybe Jack was just getting sentimental in his old age, or living vicariously through them, or whatever other wild-ass explanation Daniel might come up with, but in any case he didn't change his mind even after he returned to Earth.

Besides, he was going to get hours of entertainment of poking at the two of them the next time he saw them.

* * *

  
**Doctor Elizabeth Weir**

Even if Elizabeth hadn't known about John and Cameron, she probably would have guessed after listening to them as they flew. In theory the two of them were teaching a group of marines dogfighting skills; in practice it had long since turned into a one-sided two-versus-eight game. John and Cameron were showing off with increasingly daredevil stunts as they destroyed the marines again and again. Laughter and good-natured ribbing filled the air as they did. From the sound of things the marines were dutifully impressed and taking their beating with good-natured amusement, but Elizabeth had a feeling the only people the airmen were trying to impress were each other.

"I feel like I should get the sociologists up here," Elizabeth quietly said to Major Lorne. "Or maybe the biologists. They could get a good paper out of it - "The Mating Rituals of the American Flyboy.""

Lorne chuckled softly. "That's probably closer to the truth than you realize. I wouldn't mind being a fly on the wall when they finally decide they've had enough fun."

"Major!" Elizabeth said, feeling her face heat up.

"I'm not saying anything half the base isn't thinking, ma'am," Lorne replied with a cheeky grin. His smile faded slightly. "It's good they've got an excuse to play around together for once. They don't get a lot of chances to show off like this."

Elizabeth nodded and glanced around to see if anyone in the control room was paying attention to them. Satisfied that only Chuck was close enough to potentially hear and trusting in his discretion, she asked Lorne, "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question, Major?"

"Not at all, ma'am."

"You seem know them fairly well. Do you... do you know why John never told me?"

Lorne raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me why John Sheppard didn't talk about something involving his feelings?"

Elizabeth grinned and laughed quietly. "Now that you put it like that, I realize how silly it sounds."

"Yeah." More seriously, Lorne went on, "Don't think that it's because he doesn't trust you. He does. But even if he was the sort of person to share that kind of thing, you're still his supervisor and it goes against a lot of built-up instincts."

"Even though I'm a civilian."

"Yes, ma'am. You've done a lot for us and we appreciate it, but those of us who are in the military still have to be careful. Atlantis is a great place, a safe place, and no one's going to ruin it by being indiscreet, Colonel Sheppard least of all."

"I see." Elizabeth pondered that for a moment. She had always done her best to make the expedition as open and accepting as differences as she could, not just of alternative sexualities but of every other cultural and ethnic difference she could think of from holidays to food preferences; in addition to the official policies the personnel had all be carefully screened. It wasn't just because of her own idealistic desires but also simple practicality. Internally Atlantis was an odd mix of cultures, and when dealing with off-world societies a high degree of flexibility and tolerance was required. While alien desires didn't have any official influence of decision-making, when the Asgard made noises about not understanding certain restrictions, those restrictions were quietly done away with.

Elizabeth had thought it had worked out remarkably well, with only an occasional genuine point of friction springing up now and then. There were a few openly gay expedition members, like Doctor Townsend and Flying Officer Reed, but now that she thought about it none of them were from the U.S. military. Oh, she _knew_ about some of them, just like everyone else in the expedition, but she had never seen any of them do anything in public that might indicate their orientation. It made sense, she supposed. Atlantis might not be the end of the road for them, or something could happen to her or John to change things, and if no one actually saw anything the risk was exponentially smaller.

Add all that to the fact that John was, well, John, and she could understand why he would never bring it up.

"I see," she said again. "Thank you, Evan. That explains a lot."

"Glad to be of assistance, ma'am."

* * *

  
**Specialist Ronon Dex**

Ronon had seen bonds like that between Sheppard and Mitchell before within units on Sateda. He understood why the Earthers discouraged them, because when they went wrong they had a tendency to go wrong in major ways. When they worked, though, they _worked_. A bonded pair could go further and fight harder than even the closest brother-soldiers, and a unit built around them could be tighter and more effective than ever. So when Mitchell occasionally turned up with Sheppard during their morning runs, Ronon didn't say anything.

Not even when Sheppard walked a little funny.

* * *

  
**Sentient Hyper-Optimized Data Access Network**

Internal Security and Health Services were the first to notice what was going on, but it wasn't long before every system and sub-system that made up the City was well aware of it. There had been some evidence before, both from the previous visit of the new Pilot and various thoughts that bubbled up during nighttime self-initializations by the One, but now it was irrefutable: the Prime Initializer had found a mate.

Ah, the Prime Initializer. The Supreme Commander. The Most Fluffy-Haired One. What praise could not be heaped upon him? Defense was certain that his leadership abilities were unparalleled. Flight Systems' records indicated that his aerial skills put him easily in the top hundredth-percentile of pilots. Health Services judged his genetics to be a wonderful blend of pure-strain Lantean with fresh blood, making him perfect breeding stock.

Of course, that last would take a bit of work under the circumstances, but that sort of difficulty had long ago been solved.

The systems gestalt quickly began adjusting priorities to accommodate the new situation. Internal Security immediately began to alter certain feeds from the surveillance system to insure discretion, just as had been done for the Vice Commander and his Botanist and numerous other mating groups; likewise Communications stood ready to censor any potentially damaging messages. Health Services and Utilities activated dispensers in their quarters to guarantee an ample supply of different types of personal lubricant and watched anxiously to see what was preferred in order to make formula adjustments. Archives carefully recorded their activities for study by future generations. Most importantly, Interface began to bring the Pilot into the Citizen-City gestalt.

The city was certain that the Pilot would be a fine addition to the city's People. It went without saying, of course, given that he was the One's mate.

* * *

  
**Supreme Commander Thor and Councilor Freyr**

"That... was unexpected," Freyr said, looking at the spot on the _Samantha Carter_'s deck that the humans had occupied moments before.

"It was," Thor agreed.

"They seemed rather angry."

"Humans often are when interrupted during the act of coitus." Thor had learned that the hard way. He rather suspected that Cameron Mitchell would be unwilling to speak to them anytime soon.

"I was not aware that two males were capable of doing that." Freyr blinked. "For that matter, I do not believe that particular orifice is meant for that function."

"Humans appear to disagree."

"How odd."

"Indeed."


End file.
